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THE  REPUBLIC 


BY  PLATO 


TRANSLATED  BY 

BENJAMIN  JOWETT,  M.A. 

LATE  REGIUS  PROFESSOR  OF  GREEK  IN  THE 
UNIVERSITY  OF  OXFORD 


WITH  A SPECIAL  INTRODUCTION  BY 

WILLIAM  CRANSTON  LAWTON 

PROFESSOR  OF  GREEK  LANGUAGE  AND  LITERATURE  IN 
ADELPHI  COLLEGE,  BROOKLYN,  N.  Y. 


REVISED  EDITION 


NEW  YORK 

P.  F.  COLLIER  fj  SON 


Copyright,  1901 

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1 4 1) -^.3  Sh‘'=-ll 


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\ M 0 \ 


SPECIAL  INTRODUCTION 


Among  classical  authors  Plato  is  second  in  impoilance 
to  Homer  only,  if  even  to  him.  To  call  the  founder 
of  the  Academy  the  chief  of  philosophers  ancient  or 
modern  is  a very  inadequate  statement,  and  even,  in  one.  im- 
portant respect,  misleading.  Though  at  . "r  with  many'  of 
the  strongest  moral  tendencies  of  his  race  and  time,Tl€  was 
none  the  less  himself  a Greek,  an  Athenian,  to  the  core.  That 
is,  he  was  an  artist,  with  eyes  opened  wide  for  all  beauty 
color/ form,  and  motion.  <^lie  Athenians  saw,  as  perhaps  ho 
folk  of  later  days  have  seen,  the  glorious  charm  of  the  uni- 
verse, of  life,  of  man.  The  varied  pageant  of  earthly  existence 
did  not  pall  upon  them.  Only  after  a century  or  two  of  provin- 
ciaT enslavement  is  Menander’s  cry  heard: 

“ That  man  I count  most  happy,  Parmeno, 

Who,  after  he  hath  viewed  the  splendors  here, 

Departeth  quickly  thither  whence  he  came." 

To  be  sure,  there  is  a vein  of  occasional  repining  in  the 
Hellenic  poets,  as,  indeed,  in  all  thoughtful  men,  just  suffi- 
cient to  show  that  they  saw,  also,  the  pathos  of  life.  In  the 
Platonic  ‘"Apology”  Socrates  declares  that  death,  even  if  it 
' 1 be  only  a dreamless  sleep,  is  still  a gain,  since  there  are  few 
^ days  or  nights  in  a long  life  which  a wise  man  can  recall  that 
were  so  happy  as  the  night  when  he  slumbered  most  uncon- 
\ scious.  But  it  is  from  the  lips  of  the  Homeric  Achilles,  bereft 
and  conscious  of  imminent  doom,  from  the  octogenarian  poet 
I of  an  CEdipus  himself  world-worn,  or  from  a Socrates  already 
I upon  the  threshold  of  old  age,  strenuous  to  reconcile  himself 

r and  his  to  the  inevitable,  that  such  utterances  fall. 

' To  Pindar  and  the  countless  lesser  lyric  poets,  to  the  Tragic 
Three  and  their  forgotten  rivals,  as  to  Homer,  life,  and  espe- 
cially youth  and  early  manhood,  seemed  far  more  fair  than 
Classics.  Yol.  31 — 1 iii 


1 I 47-562 


SPECIAL  INTRODUCTION 


casual  hope  of  being  elsewhere  blest/’  The  gods  and 
heroes,  the  kindly  lesser  powers  that  haunt  mountain,  wood, 
and  stream,  were  almost  as  near  to  the  fifth-century  Hellenes 
as  to  the  mythic  age  itself.  Ordinary  men  knew  all  the 
Homeric  poems  by  heart.  In  popular  tradition,  in  the  myriad 
forms  of  painting  and  sculpture,  above  all  as  vivified  afresh  by 
the  genius  of  dramatic  poetry,  the  legends 


Of  Thebes  or  Pelops*  line, 
Or  the  tale  of  Troy  divine/’ 


Still  hung  like  a splendid  tapestry  about  the  calmer  reality. 
That  reality  itself  was  anything  but  commonplace.  The 


0-1 


^ ^gctuist  the  Persian  invader  left  the  most  deep- 


rooted  confidence  fhat  the  Hellene  had  no  rival,  and  that 
Athens  was  the  natural  capital  and  university  of  Hellas. 
Pericles  lived  and  died  in  that  belief:  and  Plato’s  li^alPbut 
overlapped  that  of  the  idealistic  statesman.  He  must : have 
actually  looked  on,  an  eager-eyed  boy,  when  armada  sailed 
forth  upon  the  Sicilian  expedition,  amid  yet  wilder  dreams  of 
occidental  empire.  I . 

The  failure  and  disillusion  came — swift  and  bitter, 

Yet  victorious  Sparta  did  not  destroy,  or  even  utterly  and  per^ 
manently  humble,  her  nobler  rival.  Throughout  Plato’s  matured 
life  Athens  was  again  self-governed ; she  had  regained  a fleet, 
some  commerce,  and  even  a modest  leadership  in  a maritime 


league,  though  never  her  pristine  haughtiness  and  far-rea^h-  y- 


ing  hopes.  Her  people  looked  backward,  rather  than  forward, 


with  fond  pride.  Their  instinct  was  right.  Macedon,  not 

1 a TT^ii : j j _ j 


tica,  was  to  lead  Hellenism  to  world-wide  dominion,  thoug^^l^'^. 


the  culture,  the  art,  and  the  speech  of  the  race  were  to  re^?^^?‘$2 
main  always  essentially  Attic. 

Throughout  the  fourth  century  b.c.,  indeed,  supremacy  in 
things  spiritual  still  abode  with  Athens.  With  Plato  walked 
and  talked,  under  the  over-arching  trees  of  Academe,  the 
choicest  spirits  of  Hellas — greatest  of  all,  Aristotle,  master 
of  them  that  know  ” — though  less  happy  than  Plato  and  all  V 
they  that  are  dreamers  with  him  of  the  dream  divine.  Aris- 
totle was  drawn  to  Athens  by  the  great  teacher,  and  spent 
there  his  happiest  and  most  useful  years. 

Plato,  then,  was  no  mere  introverted  musing  psychologist 


SPECIAL  INTRODUCTION 


V 


of  the  closet.  Indeed,  he  is  our  chief  source  of  knowledge 
for  the  conversational  speech  of  fourth-century  Athens.  The 
s^reefsTTh^  '^mhasia,  the  beauty  of  youth,  the  pride  of  man- 
hood, and  the  teeming  life  of  the  city  generally,  are  revived 
in  his  dialogues  as  nowhere  else.  The  picturesque  setting, 
the  sharply  outlined  characters,  the  realistic  grace  and  variety 
in  speech,  and  the  easily  unfolding  plots  of  his  most  perfect 
dialogues,  such  as  the  Protagoras  and  Symposium,  show  that 
he  might  have  been — that,  indeed,  he  actually  is,  along  with 
the  other  sides  of  his  composite  manifold  lifework — as  mas- 
terly a dramatist  as  Sophocles.  Even  as^  a fun-maker,  he  is 
but  second,  though  indeed  a far-away  second,  to  his  con- 
temporary, the  unapproachable  mad  spirit  that  in  the  name  of 
conservatism  and  the  ‘‘  good  old  ways  ” turned  all  the  decen- 
cies and  realities  of  life  upside  down  in  his  comedy.  Aris- 
tophanes himself,  it  should  be  remembered,  is  a welcome  guest 
at  the  Platonic  Banquet.  He  speaks  there,  even  on  the  topic 
of  Love,  wittily  and  with  bold  creative  fancy,  though  Socra- 
tes’ eloquence  makes  all  that  went  before  seem  idle  chatter. 
He  drinks  well  and  manfully,  too,  though  here  again  he  meets 
his  match.  The  Symposium  ends  with  a glimpse  of  Socrates, 
sober  still  and  argumentative  to  the  end,  sitting,  as  the  long 
night  wanes,  between  Aristophanes  and  their  host,  the  tragic 
poet  Agathon.  While  they  quaff  in  turn  from  the  great  bowl, 
the  philosopher  is  convincing  the  reluctant  and  drowsy  pair 
that  the  consummate  dramatist  will  fuse  comedy  and  tragedy, 
or  become  alike  supreme  in  both.  We  need  not  call  this  a 
prophecy  of  Shakespeare’s  advent.  It  was  already  largely 
made  true  in  Plato’s  own  noble  art,  which  saw  life  whole,  alike 
an  amusing  and  a pathetic  spectacle. 

We  must  insist,  then,  that  Qato’s  was  a great,  all  but  the 
greatest,  dramatic  genius.  The  characteristics  of  that  most 
noble  6T  arts,  including  even  the  effacement  of  the  artist’s  own 
person,  are  seen  at  once  from  the  fact,  that  all  his  works  are 
— not  didactic  sermons,  in  form  at  least,  but — realistic  dia- 
logues : and  the  chief  interlocutor  in  most,  a prominent  figure 
in  nearly  all,  is' that  most  grotesque  and  most  pathetic,  most 
ugly  and  most  fascinating  of  figures,  whether  in  fiction  or  in 
real  life,  short  of  stature,  stout  of  limb,”  satyr-faced  and 
siren-voiced,  Socrates  the  Athenian. 


VI 


SPECIAL  INTRODUCTION 


The  question,  how  much  in  these  wonderful  dialogues  is 
Socratic  and  how  much  Platonic,  can  never  be  fully  an- 
swered. From  the  sober,  pious,  prosaic-minded  Xenophon  we 
have  a sketch  of  Socrates’  life,  and  a report  of  numerous  con- 
versations. The  sketch  is  apparently  truthful,  and  evidently 
most  inadequate.  Neither  the  love  nor  the  hate  inspired  by 
that  unique  life  can  be  sufficiently  explained  from  the  Xeno- 
phontic  Memorabilia.”  Plato’s  ‘‘  Apology,”  though  a mas- 
terpiece of  self-concealing  art,  contains  nothing  which  Socra- 
tes could  not  or  may  not  have  said  before  his  judges:  and 
we  have  every  reason  to  believe  that  Plato  was  actually  pres- 
ent during  the  trial.  On  the  other  hand,  the  equally  famous 
and  vivid  ‘‘  Phsedo  ” describes  the  sage’s  last  day,  surrounded 
in  the  prison  by  his  faithful  disciples,  and  assuring  them  of 
the  soul’s  immortality:  but  in  this  case  Plato’s  own  absence 
through  illness  is  noted  in  the  text  itself.  The  argument  in 
the  Phaedo  ” shows  wide  philosophic  thought  and  study,  and 
includes  largely  doctrines  which  are  generally  believed  to  be 
Plato’s  own.  But  at  any  rate  such  a dialogue  as  the 
‘‘  Timaeus  ” can  contain  little  that  is  truly  Socratic.  The 
master  himself  utterly  condemned  the  childish  guesses  of  his 
age  at  astronomical  truths  and  physical  science  generally^  and 
constantly  advised  whole-hearted  devotion  to  the  practical 
problems  of  man’s  soul  and  moral  nature.  Yet  in  the 
‘‘  Timaeus,”  as  in  the  grand  myth  which  closes  the  ‘‘  Repub- 
lic,” there  is  an  elaborate  hypothesis  as  to  the  form  and  sig- 
nificance of  the  universe,  with  an  attempt  to  explain  from  it 
the  whole  nature  and  destiny  of  man. 

The  general  fact,  then,  is  clear,  that  Plato,  surviving  his 
master  some  fifty  years,  lived  his  own  life  of  unresting  mental 
activity  and  wondrous  growth,  yet  always  retained  in  writ- 
ing the  conversational  form  of  his  own  personal  teaching: 
and,  almost  to  the  end,  retained  also  that  most  picturesque 
central  figure  in  all  discussions:  thus  proclaiming  his  obliga- 
tion, for  all  he  had  acquired,  to  the  original  inspiration  of 
Socrates.  So  Dante’s  Beatrice,  a chief  saint  in  heaven,  has 
the  features,  the  name,  even  the  nature,  of  the  child  and  maid 
so  well  beloved  at  nine  and  at  twenty.  Such  loyalty  does  not 
lessen  the  claim  of  either  poet  or  philosopher  to  originality 
and  to  direct  inspiration  from  the  highest  sources. 


SPECIAL  INTRODUCTION 


Vll 


Plato  is  always  a student  and  teacher  of  ethical  psychology. 
The  Republic is  an  investigation  as  to  the  exact  nature  and 
definition  of  justice.  The  avowed  purpose  in  outlining  the 
ideal  State  is  to  descry,  writ  large  therein,  the  quality  which 
we  cannot  clearly  see  in  the  microcosm,  man.  To  take  for 
granted  the  essential  identity  between  the  individual  life  and 
the  career  of  a State  is  an  example  of  Plato’s  splendid  poetic 
audacity.  Socrates’  favorite  pupil,  here  fully  in  accord  with 
the  real  Socrates,  firmly  believed  that  accurate  knowledge  in 
such  matters  was  the  only  secure  road  to  character:  that 
knowledge,  reasoned  knowledge,  is  essentially  one  with  virtue, 
and  that  ignorance  is  the  true  source  of  folly,  of  sin,  of  misery. 
Aristotle  assures  us  that  the  real  Socrates  discovered  induc- 
tive reasoning  and  showed  the  value  of  general  definitions; 
both  weighty  contributions  to  true  philosophy.  Yet  we  may 
be  sure  that  in  the  ‘‘  Republic,”  the  masterpiece  of  Plato’s  later 
maturity,  the  chief  contribution  is  from  the  author’s  own 
creative  imagination. 

In  many  of  the  dialogues  we  are  taught  that  man’s  soul 
is  triple  in  its  nature.  The  most  magnificent  illustration  of 
this  doctrine  is  the  myth  of  the  “ Phsedrus,”  where  the  baser 
appetite  and  the  nobler  passionate  impulse  appear  as  a pair  of 
steeds,  one  usually  bent  on  thwarting,  the  other  on  aiding, 
the  charioteer,  who  is,  of  course,  the  Will.  In  the  Republic  ” 
this  triple  division  reappears,  the  workers  and  the  soldiers  of 
the  State  being  alike  under  the  guidance  of  the  counsellors. 

Again,  Plato  firmly  believes  that  our  life  is  a banishment 
of  the  soul  from  an  infinitely  higher  and  happier  existence,  and 
that  each  may  hope  to  rise  again,  when  worthy,  to  the  sphere 
from  which  he  has  fallen  through  sin.  Naturally  blended  with 
this  creed  is  the  belief  in  reincarnation,  in  metempsychosis ; a 
faith  not  peculiar  to  any  land  or  age.  So  the  Ifjndu  to-day 
hopes  to  escape  at  last,  after  many  lives  lived  out  with  inno- 
cence, from  the  merciless  wheel  of  things.”  Some  memory, 
even,  of  the  higher  sphere,  the  soul  may  still  retain.  Here 
Wordsworth’s  loftiest  ode  will  help  to  explain  the  faith  of 
Plato. 

Most  famous  perhaps  of  all  Plato’s  beliefs  is  the  doctrine 
of  the  Ideas.  No  quality,  no  attribute,  no  material  form,  even, 
exists  in  our  world  of  sense  in  its  perfection.  Out  of  many 


SPECIAL  INTRODUCTION 


viii 

manifestations  of,  for  instance,  courage  or  generosity,  of  man 
or  beast,  or  even  of  actual  chairs  or  tables,  we  come  nearer 
to  some  typical  conception,  or,  as  Plato  poetically  puts  it,  we 
/ recall  imperfectly  to  mind  that  ideal  type  which  the  soul 
actually  beheld  in  its  higher  estate.  Even  in  its  crudest  and 
half  “grotesque  statements  this  belief  is  evidently  an  approach, 
as  is  so  often  the  case  with  Plato’s  sublimest  guesses,  to  the 
methods  of  modern  science. 

These  peculiar  doctrines  of  Plato,  more  fully  defended  in 
other  dialogues,  are  here  largely  taken  for  granted  from  time 
to  time  as  the  argument  requires.  In  general,  the  philosopher 
is  at  war  with  the  spirit  of  the  age.  Perhaps  this  has  been 
and  must  be  always  true,  until,  as  Socrates  says,  “ the  kings 
of  earth  become  sages,  or  the  sages  are  made  our  kings.” 
Then,  as  now,  the  average  man  sought  wealth,  luxury,  power, 
fame,  by  means  more  or  less  selfish  and  unscrupulous.  • Now, 
as  then,  the  art  most  studied  is  the  art  of  getting  on  in  the 
' world.”  The  Sophists,  against  whom  so  many  a Socratic  or 
Platonic  arrow  of  satire  is  sped,  taught  very  much  what, 
mutatis  mutandis,  business  colleges,  schools  of  commerce,  etc., 
undertake  to-day.  For  such  fluency  in  rhetoric  and  oratory, 
or  such  general  information,  as  would  help  to  ready  success 
in  business  or  politics,  there  was  a good  demand,  at  generous 
prices ; and  the  Sophists  ” have  continued  to  pocket  their 
fees,  though  the  barefoot  Socrates  and  the  wealthy  aristocrat 
Plato  never  wearied  of  gibing  at  them  for  it. 

The  features  of  Plato’s  commonwealth  most  repugnant  to 
Greek  or  Yankee,  community  of  goods,  dissolution  of  the  fam- 
ily, etc.,  were  expressly  intended  to  force  upon  a reluctant  folk 
a somewhat  ascetic  ideal  of  simple  living,  with  abundant  lei- 
sure for  high,  philosophic  thought.  It  was  a scholar’s  paradise ; 
and  the  late  Thomas  Davidson  doubtless  re-established  in  his 
summer  home  many  of  the  conditions  under  which  Plato 
actually  dwelt  with  his  disciples  of  the  suburban  Academy. 
The  monastery,  and  its  offspring  the  mediaeval  university, 
have  close  kinship  with  the  dream  as  with  the  reality  of 
Academeia.  But  the  great  mass  of  men  still  prefer  free  social 
life,  and  individualism  in  gaining  and  spending;  perhaps  they 
always  will.  Though  the  plan  itself  of  such  an  ideal  State 
was  felt  by  Plato  himself  to  be  unattainable,  and  was,  indeed. 


SPECIAL  INTRODUCTION 


lx 


profoundly  modified  by  its  author  in  the  later  and  more  prac- 
tical dialogue,  “ The  Laws/'  yet  a flood  of  instructive  light 
is  incidentally  thrown  on  numberless  problems  of  real  life, 
political  and  social,  as  well  as  moral. 

The  opening  scene  has  always  been  especially  admired,  the 
discussion  on  old  age  containing  nearly  all  the  best  thoughts 
embodied  three  centuries  later  by  Cicero  in  his  essay,  “ De 
Senectute/"  The  rest  of  Book  I is  less  important,  the  various 
current  definitions  of  justice  being  set  up  only  to  be  bowled 
over,  more  or  less  fairly,  by  Socrates. 

It  is  in  Book  II  that  the  ideal  State,  with  its  three  classes, 
is  interestingly  developed.  The  division  and  subdivision  of 
mechanical  labor  are  advocated  in  phrases  that  often  sound 
strangely  modern. 

Education  is  the  especial  subject  of  Book  III.  Poetry  and 
music  must  be  austerely  and  rigidly  limited  to  the  creation  of 
better  citizens.  The  attack  directed  at  this  point  against  the 
Tgnoble  theology  of  Homer  is  a magnificent  piece  of  literary 
criticism.  Myths  are  to  be  invented  expressly  to  justify  the 
organization  of  the  State.  Individuals  are  to  pass  easily  from 
one  to  another  class,  according  to  their  fitness. 

Already  in  Book  IV  justice  is  defined  as  the  force  that 
keeps  the  three  elements  in  equilibrium  and  each  devoted  to 
its  proper  functions.  The  analogy  to  the  individual  man  is 
now  elaborately  pointed  out.  The  conclusion  is  solemnly 
urged  that  justice  is  the  only  path  to  prosperity  and  happi- 
ness, whether  for  a State  or  a man.  The  original  subject 
seems  all  but  exhausted  at  this  point. 

The  fifth  book  will  shock  nearly  all  readers.  Socrates  is 
here  forced  to  explain  in  detail  the  plans  by  which  he  would 
destroy  the  family  altogether,  prevent  each  child  from  ever 
knowing  who  were  his  actual  parents,  and  all  parents  from 
ever  singling  out  their  own  offspring.  Woman,  to  Plato,  is 
but  lesser  man.  She  must  share  all  gymnastic  exposure  and 
training,  with  the  tasks  of  war,  to  the  limit  of  her  powers. 

Books  VI  and  VII  discuss,  in  a higher  and  more  mystical 
strain,  the  philosophic  education  of  those  who  are  to  be  the 
guardians  of  the  commonwealth.  The  argument  culminates 
in  what  we  now  call  transcendentalism ; that  is,  all  the  sen- 
sual phenomena  of  our  world  are  but  unsubstantial  shadows 


X 


SPECIAL  INTRODUCTION 


of  the  eternal  and  divine  realities,  to  which  true  education 
should  direct  the  spiritual  vision.  At  the  beginning  of  Book 
VII  occurs  the  most  famous  of  Plato's  similes.  This  world 
is  likened  to  a cave  wherein  we  sit  as  prisoners,  facing  away 
from  the  light,  and  seeing  only  distorted  shadows  of  realities. 

Books  VIII  and  IX  form,  again,  a single  important  section. 
Here  the  baser  forms  of  commonwealth  are  treated  as  pro- 
gressive stages  of  degeneracy  and  decay  from  the  ideal  State. 
The  analogy  with  the  individual  man  is  still  insisted  upon  at 
every  stage.  The  whole  discussion  has  close  and  practical 
relations  with  the  actual  history  of  various  Greek  city-States, 
and  is  full  of  political  wisdom. 

Book  X is  largely  taken  up  with  a renewed  attack  upon 
poetry  in  what  men  still  consider  its  noblest  forms.  Especially 
to  be  condemned,  as  we  are  told,  is  its  effect  in  widening  our 
human  sympathies!  Lastly,  the  rewards  of  justice  are  de- 
scribed. Since  they  are  often  clearly  inadequate  as  seen  in 
this  life,  the  immortality  of  the  soul,  and  the  unerring  equity 
of  the  Divine  Judge,  are  revealed  in  a magnificent  myth,  or 
vision  of  judgment. 

The  thoughtful  reader  will  prefer  to  keep  his  notebook  in 
hand,  and  to  build  up  for  himself  a much  more  detailed  analy- 
sis. He  should  not  fail  to  notice  the  consummate  grace  with 
which  every  transition  in  the  wide-ranging  discussion  is  man- 
aged, and  often  concealed.  No  one  can  or  should  read  the 

Republic  " in  a spirit  of  unquestioning  approval.  The  furi- 
ous assault  by  this  great  poet,  myth-maker,  and  imaginative 
artist  generally,  upon  his  fellow-craftsmen  in  that  guild  must 
remind  us  that  he  is  at  times  a perverse,  even  a self-contradic- 
tory doctrinaire.  The  proposal  to  dissolve  all  true  family  ties 
is  a still  more  atrocious  attack  on  the  holiest  and  most  helpful 
of  human  institutions.  In  regarding  our  earthly  life  as  a 
mere  purgatorial  transition  between  two  other  and  infinitely 
more  important  states  of  being,  Plato  again  broke  boldly  with 
the  prevailing  Hellenic  sentiments  of  his  day.  Here,  however, 
the  large  Hebraic  and  Oriental  element  in  the  creeds  of  Chris- 
tendom enables  us  to  understand,  often  to  sympathize  with, 
utterances  which  then  seemed  novel  and  startling.  In  gen- 
eral, no  thoughtful  man  or  woman  can  turn  the  pages  of  the 

Republic ''  without  infinite  enrichment  and  widening  of 


SPECIAL  INTRODUCTION 


xi 


mental  range.  It  has  had  a great  influence  on  all  later  visions 
|of  ideal  States:  but  especially  is  this  true,  and  indeed  freely 
find  frequently  avowed,  in  the  Utopia  of  Sir  Thomas  More. 

The  version  of  all  Plato’s  works  by  Professor  Jowett  is  the 
most  important  piece  of  translation  made  during  the  last  gen- 
eration, at  least;  it  has  added  to  our  own  literature  a master- 
piece of  artistic  form  and  manifold  wisdom.  The  rendering 
is  not  slavishly  literal,  but  all  the  more  faithful  to  the  spirit. 
In  the  ‘‘  Republic  ” the  style  of  Plato  himself  is  usually  so 
transparent  that  very  little  need  of  annotation  will  be  felt. 
We  may,  however,  in  closing,  mention  a few  helps  for  the 
special  student  of  Plato.  The  chief  standard  work  in  Eng- 
lish is  Grote’s  Plato  and  the  other  Companions  of  Socrates,” 
in  which  each  dialogue  is  carefully  discussed.  Walter  Pater’s 
‘‘  Plato  and  Platonism  ” is  the  best  of  brief  compendiums. 
Zeller’s  History  of  Ancient  Philosophy,”  in  German,  or  in 
English  translation,  is  indispensable  to  the  thorough  student. 


CONTENTS 


BOOK  I 

PAGE 

Of  Wealth,  Justice,  Moderation,  and  their  Opposites i 

BOOK  II 

The  Individual,  the  State,  and  Education., 35  1^ 

BOOK  III 

The  Arts  in  Education., 66 

BOOK  IV 

Wealth,  Poverty,  and  Virtue 10$ 

BOOK  V 

On  Matrimony  and  Philosophy 137 

BOOK  VI  ^ 

The  Philosophy  of  Government 176  ^ 

BOOK  VII 

On  Shadows  and  Realities  in  Education 209 

BOOK  VIII 

Four  Forms  of  Government, 240 

BOOK  IX 

On  Wrong  or  Right  Government,  and  the  Pleasures  of  Each 272 

BOOK  X 

The  Recompense  of  Life 299 


X 


I. 

bJ 


TRANSLATOR’S  INTRODUCTION 


^I^HE  Republic’’  of  Plato  is  the  longest  of  his  works, 
I with  the  exception  of  the  Laws,”  and  is  certainly  the 
greatest  of  them.  There  are  nearer  approaches  to 
modern  metaphysics  in  the  “ Philebus  ” and  in  the  ‘‘  Sophist  ” ; 
the  Politicus,”  or  “ Statesman,”  is  more  ideal;  the  form  and 
institutions  of  the  State  are  more  clearly  drawn  out  in  the 
Laws  ” ; as  works  of  art,  the  “ Symposium  ” and  the  ‘‘  Protag- 
oras ” are  of  higher  excellence.  But  no  other  dialogue  of 
Plato  has  the  same  largeness  of  view  and  the  same  perfection 
of  style;  no  other  shows  an  equal  knowledge  of  the  world, 
or  contains  more  of  those  thoughts  which  are  new  as  well  as 
old,  and  not  of  one  age  only,  but  of  all.  Nowhere  in  Plato  is 
there  a deeper  irony  or  a greater  wealth  of  humor  or  imagery, 
or  more  dramatic  power.  Nor  in  any  other  of  his  writings  is 
the  attempt  made  to  interweave  life  and  speculation,  or  to  con- 
nect politics  with  philosophy.  The  ‘‘  Republic  ” is  the  centre 
around  which  the  other  dialogues  may  be  grouped ; here 
pljjbsophy  reaches  the  highest  point  (cp.  especially  in  Books 
Y,^I,  VII)  to  which  ancient  thinkers  ever  attained.  Plato 
among  the  Greeks,  like  Bacon  among  the  moderns,  was  the 
fir^t  who  conceived  a method  of  knowledge,  although  neither 
of  them  always  distinguished  the  bare  outline  or  form  from 
the  substance  of  truth;  and  both  of  them  had  to  be  content 
with  an  abstraction  of  science  which  was  not  yet  realized.  He 
was  the  greatest  metaphysical  genius  whom  the  world  has  seen ; 
and  in  him,  more  than  in  any  other  ancient  thinker,  the  germs 
of  future  knowledge  are  contained.  The  sciences  of  logic  and 
psychology,  which  have  supplied  so  many  instruments  of 
thought  to  after-ages,  are  based  upon  the  analyses  of  Socrates 
and  Plato.  The  principles  of  definition,  the  law  of  contra- 
diction, the  fallacy  of  arguing  in  a circle,  the  distinction  be- 
tween the  essence  and  accidents  of  a thing  or  notion,  between 


XVlll 


PLATO 


means  and  ends,  betweeix  causes  and  conditions ; also  the 
ion  of  the  mind  into  the  rational,  concupiscent,  and  irascible^ 
elements,  or  of  pleasures  and  desires  into  necessary  and  un- 
necessary— these  and  other  great  forms  of  thought  are  all  of 
them  to  be  found  in  the  ‘‘  Republic,’’  and  were  probably  first 
invented  by  Plato.  The  greatest  of  all  logical  truths,  and  the 
one  of  which  writers  on  philosophy  are  most  apt  to  lose  sight, 
the  difference  between  words  and  things,  has  been  most  strenu- 
ously insisted  on  by  him  (cp.  Rep.”  454  A;  “ Polit.”  261  E; 

Cratyl.”  435,  436  ff.)*,  although  he  has  not  always  avoided 
the  confusion  of  them  in  his  own  writings.  But  he  does  not 
bind  up  truth  in  logical  formulas — logic  is  still  veiled  in  meta- 
physics ; and  the  science  which  he  imagines  to  contemplate  all 
truth  and  all  existence  ” is  very  unlike  the  doctrine  of  the 
syllogism  which  Aristotle  claims  to  have  discovered  (Soph. 

Elenchi,”  33.  18). 

Neither  must  we  forget  that  the  Republic  ” is  but  the 
third  part  of  a still  larger  design  which  was  to  have  included 
an  ideal  history  of  Athens,  as  well  as  a political  and  physical 
philosophy.  The  fragment  of  the  Critias  ” has  given  birth 
to  a world-famous  fiction,  second  only  in  importance  to  the 
tale  of  Troy  and  the  legend  of  Arthur;  and  is  said  as  a fact 
to  have  inspired  some  of  the  early  navigators  of  the  sixteenth 
century.  This  mythical  tale,  of  which  the  subject  was  a his- 
tory of  the  wars  of  the  Athenians  against  the  island  of  Atlantis, 
is  supposed  to  be  founded  upon  an  unfinished  poem  of  Sgloiiv 
to  which  it  would  have  stood  in  the  same  relation  as  the  writ- 
ings of  the  logographers  to  the  poems  of  Homer.  It  would 
have  told  of  a struggle  for  liberty  (cp.  ''  Tim.”  25  C),  interided 
to  represent  the  conflict  of  Persia  and  Hellas.  We  may  jud^ 
from  the  noble  commencement  of  the  Timaeus,”  from  the 
fragment  of  the  Critias  ” itself,  and  from  the  third  book  of 
the  Laws,”  in  what  manner  Plato  would  have  treated  thift 
high  argument.  We  can  only  guess  why  the  great  design  was 
abandoned ; perhaps  because  Plato  became  sensible  of  some  ' 
incongruity  in  a fictitious  history,  or  because  he  had  lost  his  ; 
interest  in  it,  or  because  advancing  years  forbade  the  com- 
pletion of  it ; and  we  may  please  ourselves  with  the  fancy  that 
had  this  imaginary  narrative  ever  been  finished,  we  should  have 

* In  this  Introduction  the  translator  refers  to  his  Oxford  Edition  of  Plato* 


TRANSLATOR'S  INTRODUCTION 


XIX 


Plato  himself  sympathizing  with  the  struggle  for  Hel- 
Jenic  independence  (cp.  “ Laws/’  iii.  698  ff.),  singing  a hymn 
of  triumph  over  Marathon  and  Salamis,  perhaps  making  the 
reflection  of  Herodotus  (v.  78)  where  he  contemplates  the 
groti^pf  the  Athenian  Empire — How  brave  a thing  is  free- 
dom of  speech,  which  has  made  the  Athenians  so  far  exceed 
every  other  State  of  Hellas  in  greatness ! ” or,  more  probably, 
attributing  the  victory  to  the  ancient  good  order  of  Athens  and 
to  the  favor  of  Apollo  and  Athene  (cp.  Introd.  to  ‘‘  Critias  ”). 

Again,  Plato  may  be  regarded  as  the  captain  ” {^pXVyo<;) 
or  leader  of  a goodly  band  of  followers ; for  in  the  ''  Republic  ” 
is  to  be  found  the  original  of  Cicero’s  ‘‘  De  Republica,”  of  St. 
Augustine’s  ‘‘  City  of  God,”  of  the  ‘‘  Utopia  ” of  Sir  Thomas 
More,  and  of  the  numerous  other  imaginary  States  which  are 
framed  upon  the  same  model.  The  extent  to  which  Aristotle 
or  the  Aristotelian  school  was  indebted  to  him  in  the  ''  Poli- 
tics ” has  been  little  recognized,  and  the  recognition  is  the 
more  necessary  because  it  is  not  made  by  Aristotle  himself. 
The  two  philosophers  had  more  in  common  than  they  were  con- 
scious of;  and  probably  some  elements  of  Plato  remain  still 
undetected  in  Aristotle.  In  English  philosophy,  too,  many 
affinities  may  be  traced,  not  only  in  the  works  of  the  Cambridge 
Platonists,  but  in  great  original  writers  like  Berkeley  or  Cole- 
ridge, to  Plato  and  his  ideas.  That  there  is  a truth  higher 
than  experience,  of  which  the  mind  bears  witness  to  herself, 
is  a conviction  which  in  our  own  generation  has  been  enthusi- 
astically asserted,  and  is  perhaps  gaining  ground.  Of  the 
Greek  authors  who  at  the  Renaissance  brought  a new  life  into 
world  Plato  has  had  the  greatest  influence.  The  Re- 
^ lic-^of  Plato  is  also  the  first  treatise  upon  education,  of 
^wliicii  the  writings  of  Milton  and  Locke,  Rousseau,  Jean  Paul, 
^tid  Goethe  are  the  legitimate  descendants.  Like  Dante  or 
Bunyan,  he  has  a revelation  of  another  life;  like  Bacon,  he 
is  profoundly  impressed  with  the  unity  of  knowledge;  in  the 
early  Church  he  exercised  a real  influence  on  theology,  and 
at  the  Revival  of  Literature  on  politics.  Even  the  fragments 
of  his  words  when  ‘‘  repeated  at  second-hand  ” Symp.”  215 
D)  have  in  all  ages  ravished  the  hearts  of  men,  who  have  seen 
reflected  in  them  their  own  higher  nature.  He  is  the  father  of 
idealism  in  philosophy,  in  politics,  in  literature.  And  many  of 


XX 


PLATO 


the  latest  conceptions  of  modern  thinkers  and  statesmen,  such 
as  the  unity  of  knowledge,  the  reign  of  law,  and  the  equality 
of  the  sexes,  have  been  anticipated  in  a dream  by  him. 


blameless  old  man — then  discussed  on  the  basis  of  proverHal 
morality  by  Socrates  and  Polemarchus — then  caricatured  l^y 
Thrasymachus  and  partially  explained  by  Socrates — reduced 
to  an  abstraction  by  Glaucon  and  Adeimantus,  and  having  be- 
come invisible  in  the  individual  reappears  at  length  in  the  ideal 
State  which  is  constructed  by  Socrates.  The  first  care  of  the 
rulers  is  to  be  education,  of  which  an  outline  is  drawn  after 
the  old  Hellenic  model,  providing  only  for  an  improved  re- 
ligion and  morality,  and  more  simplicity  in  music  and  gym- 
nastics, a manlier  strain  of  poetry,  and  greater  harmony  of  the 
individual  and  the  State.  We  are  thus  led  on  to  the  concep- 
tion of  a higher  State,  in  which  ‘‘  no  man  calls  anything  his 
own,”  and  in  which  there  is  neither  ‘‘  marrying  nor  giving  in 
marriage,”  and  kings  are  philosophers  ” and  philosophers 
are  kings ; ” and  there  is  another  and  higher  education,  intel- 
lectual as  well  as  moral  and  religious,  of  science  as  well  as 
of  art,  and  not  of  youth  only,  but  of  the  whole  of  life.  Such 
a State  is  hardly  to  be  realized  in  this  world,  and  quickly 
degenerates.  To  the  perfect  ideal  succeeds  the  government  of 
the  soldier  and  the  lover  of  honor,  this  again  declining  into 
democracy,  and  democracy  into  tyranny,  in  an  imaginary  but 
regular  order  having  not  much  resemblance  to  the  actual  facts. 
When  the  wheel  has  come  full  circle  ” we  do  not  begin  a^ain 
with  a new  period  of  human  life;  but  we  have  passe 
the  best  to  the  worst,  and  there  we  end.  The  subject 
changed  and  the  old  quarrel  of  poetry  and  philosophy 
had  been  more  lightly  treated  in  the  earlier  books  of  the  Re- 
public ” is  now  resumed  and  fought  out  to  a conclusion.  Poetry 
is  discovered  to  be  an  imitation  thrice  removed  from  the  truth, 
and  Homer,  as  well  as  the  dramatic  poets,  having  been  con- 
demned as  an  imitator,  is  sent  into  banishment  along  with 
them.  And  the  idea  of  the  State  is  supplemented  by  the  revela- 
tion of  a future  life. 

The  division  into  books,  like  all  similar  divisions,^  is  prob- 


* Cp.  Sir  G.  C.  Lewis,  in  the  “ Classical  Museum,*'  vol.  ii.  p.  i. 


I 


TRANSLATOR’S  INTRODUCTION 


XXI 


,bly  later  than  the  age  of  Plato.  The  natural  divisions  are 
five  in  number:  (i)  Book  I and  the  first  half  of  Book  II 
down  to  p.  368,  which  is  introductory ; the  first  book  contain- 
ng  a refutation  of  the  popular  and  sophistical  notions  of  jus- 
■ice,  and  concluding,  like  some  of  the  earlier  dialogues,  with- 
out arriving  at  any  definite  result.  To  this  is  appended  a 
"estatement  of  the  nature  of  justice  according  to  common  opin- 
'On,  and  an  answer  is  demanded  to  the  question.  What  is  jus- 
;ice,  stripped  of  appearances?  The  second  division  (2)  in- 
:ludes  the  remainder  of  the  second  and  the  whole  of  the  third 
ind  fourth  books,  which  are  mainly  occupied  with  the  con- 
struction of  the  first  State  and  the  first  education.  The  third 
division  (3)  consists  of  the  fifth,  sixth,  and  seventh  books, 
n which^hilosophj  rather  than  justice  is  the  subject  of  in- 
quiry, and  the  second  State  is  constructed  on  principles  of 
communism  and  ruled  by  philosophers,  and  the  contemplation 
of  the  idea  of  good  takes  the  place  of  the  social  and  political 
virtues.  In  the  eighth  and  ninth  books  (4)  the  perversions  of 
States  and  of  the  individuals  who  correspond  to  them  are  re- 
viewed in  succession ; and  the  nature  of  pleasure  and  the  prin- 
ciple of  tyranny  are  further  analyzed  in  the  individual  man. 
The  tenth  book  (5)  is  the  conclusion  of  the  whole,  in  which 
he  relations  of  philosophy  to  poetry  are  finally  determined,  and 
:he  happiness  of  the  citizens  in  this  life,  which  has  now  been 
ssured,  is  crowned  by  the  vision  of  another. 

Or  a more  general  division  into  two  parts  may  be  adopted; 
he  first  (Books  I-IV)  containing  the  description  of  a State 
ramed  generally  in  accordance  with  Hellenic  notions  of  re- 
igion  and  morality,  while  in  the  second  (Books  V-X)  the 
ellenic  State  is  transformed  into  an  ideal  kingdom  of  philos- 
iphy,  of  which  all  other  governments  are  the  perversions, 
hese  two  points  of  view  are  really  opposed,  and  the  opposi- 
:ion  is  only  veiled  by  the  genius  of  Plato.  The  Republic,’' 
ike  the  “ Phaedrus  ” (see  Introduction  to  Phaedrus  ”),  is  an 
mperfect  whole ; the  higher  light  of  philosophy  breaks  through 
he  regularity  of  the  Hellenic  temple,  which  at  last  fades  away 
to  the  heavens  ( 592  B ) . Whether  this  imperfection  of  struct- 
re  arises  from  an  enlargement  of  the  plan,  or  from  the  im- 
perfect reconcilement  in  the  writer’s  own  mind  of  the  strug- 
ing  elements  of  thought  which  are  now  first  brought  to- 


XXll 


PLATO 


gether  by  him,  or,  perhaps,  from  the  composition  of  the  work 
at  different  times— are  questions,  like  the  similar  question  about 
the  Iliad  ’’  and  the  ‘‘  Odyssey,’’  which  are  worth  asking,  but 
which  cannot  have  a distinct  answer.  In  the  age  of  Plato  there 
was  no  regular  mode  of  publication,  and  an  author  would  have 
the  less  scruple  in  altering  or  adding  to  a work  which  was 
known  only  to  a few  of  his  friends.  There  is  no  absurdity  iv 
supposing  that  he  may  have  laid  his  labors  aside  for  a time 
or  turned  from  one  work  to  another;  and  such  interruptions 
would  be  more  likely  to  occur  in  the  case  of  a long  than  of  a 
short  writing.  In  all  attempts  to  determine  the  chronological 
order  of  the  Platonic  writings  on  internal  evidence,  this  uncer- 
tainty about  any  single  dialogue  being  composed  at  one  time 
is  a disturbing  element,  which  must  be  admitted  to  affed 
longer  works,  such  as  the  ‘‘  Republic  ” and  the  “ Laws,”  more 
than  shorter  ones.  But,  on  the  other  hand,  the  seeming  dis- 
crepancies of  the  Republic  ” may  only  arise  out  of  the  dis- 
cordant elements  which  the  philosopher  has  attempted  to  unite 
in  a single  whole,  perhaps  without  being  himself  able  to  recog- 
nize the  inconsistency  which  is  obvious  to  us.  For  there  is  a 
judgment  of  after-ages  which  few  great  writers  have  ever  been 
able  to  anticipate  for  themselves.  They  do  not  perceive  the 
want  of  connection  in  their  own  writings,  or  the  gaps  in  theii 
systems  which  are  visible  enough  to  those  who  come  aftei 
them.  In  the  beginnings  of  literature  and  philosophy,  amic 
the  first  efforts  of  thought  and  language,  more  inconsistencies 
occur  than  now,  when  the  paths  of  speculation  are  well  won 
and  the  meaning  of  words  precisely  defined.  For  consistency 
too,  is  the  growth  of  time ; and  some  of  the  greatest  creation 
of  the  human  mind  have  been  wanting  in  unity.  Tried  bj 
this  test,  several  of  the  Platonic  dialogues,  according  to  oui 
modern  ideas,  appear  to  be  defective,  but  the  deficiency  is  n( 
proof  that  they  were  composed  at  different  times  or  by  dif 
ferent  hands.  And  the  supposition  that  the  ‘‘  Republic  ” wa 
written  uninterruptedly  and  by  a continuous  effort  is  in  som 
degree  confirmed  by  the  numerous  references  from  one  pai 
of  the  work  to  another. 

The  second  title,  ‘‘  Concerning  Justice,”  is  not  the  one  b 
which  the  Republic  ” is  quoted,  either  by  Aristotle  or  gei 
erally  in  antiquity,  and,  like  the  other  second  titles  of  the  PI 


TRANSLATOR’S  INTRODUCTION 


xxiii 


tonic  dialogues,  may  therefore  be  assumed  to  be  of  later  date. 
Morgenstern  and  others  have  asked  whether  the  definition  of 
justice,  which  is  the  professed  aim,  or  the  construction  of  the 
State  is  the  principal  argument  of  the  work.  The  answer  is 
that  the  two  blend  in  one,  and  are  two  faces  of  the  same  truth ; 
for  justice  is  the  order  of  the  State,  and  the  State  is  the  visible 
embodiment  of  justice  under  the  conditions  of  human  society. 
The  one  is  the  soul  and  the  other  is  the  body,  and  the  Greek 
ideal  of  the  State,  as  of  the  individual,  is  a fair  mind  in  a fair 
body.  In  Hegelian  phraseology  the  State  is  the  reality  of 
which  justice  is  the  idea.  Or,  described  in  Christian  language, 
the  kingdom  of  God  is  within,  and  yet  develops  into  a Church 
or  external  kingdom ; ‘‘  the  house  not  made  with  hands,  eternal 
in  the  heavens,”  is  reduced  to  the  proportions  of  an  earthly 
building.  Or,  to  use  a Platonic  image,  justice  and  the  State 
are  the  warp  and  the  woof  which  run  through  the  whole  text- 
ure. And  when  the  constitution  of  the  State  is  completed,  the 
conception  of  justice  is  not  dismissed,  but  reappears  under 
the  same  or  different  names  throughout  the  work,  both  as  the 
inner  law  of  the  individual  soul,  and  finally  as  the  principle  of 
rewards  and  punishments  in  another  life.  The  virtues  are 
based  on  justice,  of  which  common  honesty  in  buying  and 
sellingls^the  shadow,  and  justice  is  based  on  the  idea  of  good, 
which  is  the  harmony  of  the  world,  and  is  reflected  both  in  the 
institutions  of  States  and  in  motions  of  the  heavenly  bodies 
(cp.  ‘"Tim.”  47).  The  “ Timaeus,”  which  takes  up  the  polit- 
ical rather  than  the  ethical  side  of  the  “ Republic,”  and  is 
chiefly  occupied  with  hypotheses  concerning  the  outward  world, 
yet  contains  many  indications  that  the  same  law  is  supposed 
to  reign  over  the  State,  over  nature,  and  over  man. 

Too  much,  however,  has  been  made  of  this  question  both  in 
ancient  and  modern  times.  There  is  a stage  of  criticism  in 
which  all  works,  whether  of  nature  or  of  art,  are  referred  to 
design.  Now  in  ancient  writings,  and,  indeed,  in  literature  gen- 
erally, there  remains  often  a large  element  which  was  not  com- 
prehended in  the  original  design.  For  the  plan  grows  under 
the  author’s  hand;  new  thoughts  occur  to  him  in  the  act  of 
writing;  he  has  not  worked  out  the  argument  to  the  end  be- 
fore he  begins.  The  reader  who  seeks  to  find  some  one  idea 
under  which  the  whole  may  be  conceived,  must  necessarily 


xxiv 


PLATO 


seize  on  the  vaguest  and  most  general.  Thus  Stallbaum,  who 
is  dissatisfied  with  the  ordinary  explanations  of  the  argument 
of  the  ‘‘  Republic/’  imagines  himself  to  have  found  the  true 
argument  in  the  representation  of  human  life  in  a State  per- 
fected by  justice,  and  governed  according  to  the  idea  of  good.” 
There  may  be  some  use  in  such  general  descriptions,  but  they 
can  hardly  be  said  to  express  the  design  of  the  writer.  The 
truth  is  that  we  may  as  well  speak  of  many  designs  as  of  one ; 
nor  need  anything  be  excluded  from  the  plan  of  a great  work 
to  which  the  mind  is  naturally  led  by  the  association  of  ideas, 
and  which  does  not  interfere  with  the  general  purpose.  What 
kind  or  degree  of  unity  is  to  be  sought  after  in  a building,  in 
the  plastic  arts,  in  poetry,  in  prose,  is  a problem  which  has  to 
be  determined  relatively  to  the  subject-matter.  To  Plato  him- 
self, the  inquiry.  What  was  the  intention  of  the  writer?  or, 
What  was  the  principal  argument  of  the  Republic  ” ( ?)  would 
have  been  hardly  intelligible,  and  therefore  had  better  be  at 
once  dismissed  (cp.  the  Introduction  to  the  Phsedrus,” 
vol.  i.). 

Is  not  the  Republic  ” the  vehicle  of  three  or  four  great 
truths  which,  to  Plato’s  own  mind,  are  most  naturally  repre- 
sented in  the  form  of  the  State?  Just  as  in  the  Jewish  prophets 
the  reign  of  Messiah,  or  “ the  day  of  the  Lord,”  or  the  suffer- 
ing servant  or  people  of  God,  or  the  ‘‘  Sun  of  righteousness 
with  healing  in  his  wings,”  only  convey,  to  us  at  least,  their 
great  spiritual  ideals,  so  through  the  Greek  State  Plato  re- 
veals to  us  his  own  thoughts  about  divine  perfection,  which 
is  the  idea  of  good — like  the  sun  in  the  visible  world ; about 
human  perfection,  which  is  justice — about  education  begin- 
ning in  youth  and  continuing  in  later  years — about  poets  and 
sophists  and  tyrants  who  are  the  false  teachers  and  evil  rulers 
of  mankind — about  ''  the  world  ” which  is  the  embodiment  of 
them — about  a kingdom  which  exists  nowhere  upon  earth,  but 
is  laid  up  in  heaven,  to  be  the  pattern  and  rule  of  human  life. 
No  such  inspired  creation  is  at  unity  with  itself,  any  more 
than  the  clouds  of  heaven  when  the  sun  pierces  through  them. 
Every  shade  of  light  and  dark,  of  truth,  and  of  fiction  which 
is  the  veil  of  truth,  is  allowable  in  a work  of  philosophical 
imagination.  It  is  not  all  on  the  same  plane ; it  easily  passes 
from  ideas  to  myths  and  fancies,  from  facts  to  figures  of  speech. 


TRANSLATOR'S  INTRODUCTION 


XXV 


It  is  not  prose  but  poetry,  at  least  a great  part  of  it,  and  ought 
not  to  be  judged  by  the  rules  of  logic  or  the  probabilities  of 
history.  The  writer  is  not  fashioning  his  ideas  into  an  artistic 
whole ; they  take  possession  of  him  and  are  too  much  for  him. 
We  have  no  peed,  therefore,  to  discuss  whether  a State  such 
as  Plato  has  conceived  is  practicable  or  not,  or  whether  the 
outward  form  or  the  inward  life  came  first  into  the  mind  of 
the  writer.  For  the  practicability  of  his  ideas  has  nothing  to 
do  with  their  truth  (v.  472  D)  ; and  the  highest  thoughts  to 
which  he  attains  may  be  truly  said  to  bear  the  greatest  marks 
of  design  ’’ — justice  more  than  the  external  frame-work  of  the 
State,  the  idea  of  good  more  than  justice.  The  great  science 
of  dialectic,  or  the  organization  of  ideas,  has  no  real  content, 
but  is  only  a type  of  the  method  or  spirit  in  which  the  higher 
knowledge  is  to  be  pursued  by  the  spectator  of  all  time  and 
all  existence.  It  is  in  the  fifth,  sixth,  and  seventh  books  that 
Plato  reaches  the  ‘‘  summit  of  speculation,’’  and  these,  although 
they  fail  to  satisfy  the  requirements  of  a modern  thinker,  may’ 
therefore  be  regarded  as  the  most  important,  as  they  are  also 
the  most  original,  portions  of  the  work. 

It  is  not  necessary  to  discuss  at  length  a minor  question 
which  has  been  raised  by  Boeckh,  respecting  the  imaginary  date 
at  which  the  conversation  was  held  (the  year  41 1 b.c.,  which 
is  proposed  by  him,  will  do  as  well  as  any  other)  ; for  a writer 
of  fiction,  and  especially  a writer  who,  like  Plato,  is  notoriously 
careless  of  chronology  (cp.  ''Rep.”  i.  336;  " Symp.”  193  A, 
etc.),  only  aims  at  general  probability.  Whether  all  the  per- 
sons mentioned  in  the  " Republic  ” could  ever  have  met  at  any 
one  time  is  not  a difficulty  which  would  have  occurred  to  an 
Athenian  reading  the  work  forty  years  later,  or  to  Plato  him- 
self at  the  time  of  writing  (any  more  than  to  Shakespeare 
respecting  one  of  his  own  dramas),  and  need  not  greatly 
trouble  us  now.  Yet  this  may  be  a question  having  no  answer 
which  is  still  worth  asking,”  because  the  investigation  shows 
that  we  cannot  argue  historically  from  the  dates  in  Plato;  it 
would  be  useless  therefore  to  waste  time  in  inventing  far- 
fetched reconcilements  of  them  in  order  to  avoid  chronological 
difficulties,  such,  for  example,  as  the  conjecture  of  C.  F.  Her- 
mann, that  Glaucon  and  Adeimantus  are  not  the  brothers,  but 
the  uncles,  of  Plato  (cp.  " Apol.”  34  A),  or  the  fancy  of  Stall- 


XX  vi 


PLATO 


baum  that  Plato  intentionally  left  anachronisms  indicating  th<> 
dates  at  which  some  of  his  dialogues  were  written. 

The  principal  characters  in  the  “ Republic  ” are  Cephalus, 
Polemarchus,  Thrasymachus,  Socrates,  Glaucon,  and  Adeiman- 
tus.  Cephalus  appears  in  the  Introduction  only,  Polemarchus 
drops  at  the  end  of  the  first  argument,  and  Thrasymachus  is 
reduced  to  silence  at  the  close  of  the  first  book.  The  main 
discussion  is  carried  on  by  Socrates,  Glaucon,  and  Adeimantus. 
Among  the  company  are  Lysias  (the  orator)  and  Euthydemus, 
the  sons  of  Cephalus  and  brothers  of  Polemarchus,  an  unknown 
Charmantides — these  are  mute  auditors;  also  there  is  Cleito- 
phon,  who  once  interrupts  (340  A),  where,  as  in  the  dialogue 
which  bears  his  name,  he  appears  as  the  friend  and  ally  of 
Thrasymachus. 

Cephalus,  the  patriarch  of  the  house,  has  been  appropri- 
ately engaged  in  offering  a sacrifice.  He  is  the  pattern  of  an 
old  man  who  has  almost  done  with  life,  and  is  at  peace  with 
himself  and  with  all  mankind.  He  feels  that  he  is  drawing 
nearer  to  the  world  below,  and  seems  to  linger  around  the 
memory  of  the  past.  He  is  eager  that  Socrates  should  come 
to  visit  him,  fond  of  the  poetry  of  the  last  generation,  happy 
in  the  consciousness  of  a well-spent  life,  glad  at  having  es- 
caped from  the  tyranny  of  youthful  lusts.  His  love  of  con- 
versation, his  affection,  his  indifference  to  riches,  even  his  gar 
rulity,  are  interesting  traits  of  character.  He  is  not  one  of 
those  who  have  nothing  to  say,  because  their  whole  mind  has 
been  absorbed  in  making  money.  Yet  he  acknowledges  .that 
riches  have  the  advantage  of  placing  men  above  the  tempta- 
tion to  dishonesty  or  falsehood.  The  respectful  attention 
shown  to  him  by  Socrates,  whose  love  of  conversation,  no  less 
than  the  mission  imposed  upon  him  by  the  Oracle,  leads  him 
to  ask  questions  of  all  men,  young  and  old  alike  (cp.  i.  328  A), 
should  also  be  noted.  Who  better  suited  to  raise  the  question 
of  justice  than  Cephalus,  whose  life  might  seem  to  be  the  ex- 
pression of  it?  The  moderation  with  which  old  age  is  pict- 
ured by  Cephalus  as  a very  tolerable  portion  of  existence  is 
characteristic,  not  only  of  him,  but  of  Greek  feeling  generally, 
and  contrasts  with  the  exaggeration  of  Cicero  in  the  “ De 
Senectute.”  The  evening  of  life  is  described  by  Plato  in  the 


STRANSLATOR’S  INTRODUCTION 


xxvn 


ost  expressive  manner,  yet  with  the  fewest  possible  touches, 
s Cicero  remarks  (“  Ep.  ad  Attic/’  iv.  i6),  the  aged  Cephalus 
ould  have  been  out  of  place  in  the  discussion  which  follows, 
nd  which  he  could  neither  have  understood  nor  taken  part 
n without  a violation  of  dramatic  propriety  (cp.  Lysimachus 
n the  Laches/’  89). 

His  ‘‘  son  and  heir  ” Pplemarchus  has  the  frankness  and  im- 
petuousiiess  of  youth;  he  is  for  detaining  Socrates  by  force 
. the  opening  scene,  and  will  not  let  him  off  ” (v.  449  B)  on 
be  subject  of  women  and  children.  Like  Cephalus,  he  is  lim- 
ted  m his  point  of  view,  and  represents  the  proverbial  stage 
f morality  which  has  rules  of  life  rather  than  principles ; and 
..e  quotes  Simonides  (cp.  Aristoph.  Clouds,”  1355  ff.)  as 
is  father  had  quoted  Pindar.  But  after  this  he  has  no  more 
a say;  the  answers  which  he  makes  are  only  elicited  from 
him  by  the  dialectic  of  Socrates.  He  has  not  yet  experienced 
die  influence  of  the  Sophists  like  Glaucon  and  Adeimantus,  nor 
is  he  .sensible  of  the  necessity  of  refuting  them;  he  belongs 
to  thejpre-Socratic  or  pre-dialectical  age.  He  is  incapable  of 
argui|ig,  and  is  bewildered  by  Socrates  to  such  a degree  that 
he  does  not  know  what  he  is  saying.  He  is  made  to  admit 
that  justice  is  a thief,  and  that  the  virtues  follow  the  analogy 
the  : arts  (i.  333  E).  From,  his  brother  Lysias  {contra 
^Eratpisth.”  p.  121)  we  learn  that  he  fell  a victim  to  the  Thirty 
Tyrantjs,  but  no  allusion  is  here  made  to  his  fate,  nor  to  the  cir- 
cumsf^fnce  that  Cephalus  and  his  family  were  of  Syracusan 
rig^in,  and  had  migrated  from  Thurii  to  Athens. 

rhe^-  Chalcedonian  giant,”  Thr^ymachus,  of  whom  we  have 
Iready  heard  in  the  ‘‘  Phaedru^’^^'T^^TTn^  is  the  personifica- 
ion  Oi  the  ,§pphists,  according  to  Plato’s  conception  of  them, 
n some  of  their  worst  characteristics.  He  is  vain  and  bluster- 
ng,  refusing  to  discourse  unless  he  is  paid,  fond  of  making 
n oration,  and  hoping  thereby  to  escape  the  inevitable  Socrates, 
ut  a mer^  child  in  ^argument,  and  unable  to  foresee  that  the 
ext  “ move  ” (to  use  a Platonic  expression)  will  shut  him 
(vi.  487  B).  He  has  reached  the  stage  of  framing  gen- 
1 notions,  and  in  this  respe^  is  in  advance  of  Cephalus  and 
emarchus.  But  he  is  incapable  of  defending  them  in  a dis- 
*on,  and  vainly  tries  to  cover  hib  confusion  with  banter 
’nsolence.  Whether  suc^  doctrines  as  are  attributed  to 


xxviii 


PLATO 


him  by  Plato  were  really  held  either  by  him  or  by  any  oth 
Sophist  is  uncertain;  in  the  infancy  of  philosophy  serio 
errors  about  morality  might  easily  grow  up — ^they  are  ce’ 
tainly  put  into  the  mouths  of  speakers  in  Thucydides;  bi 
we  are  concerned  at  present  with  Plato’s  description  of  hin 
and  not  with  the  historical  reality.  The  inequality  of  the  co 
test  adds  greatly  to  the  humor  of  the  scene.  The  pompou: 
and  empty  Sophist  is  utterly  helpless  in  the  hands  of  the  greaj 
master  of  dialectic,  who  knows  how  to  touch  all  the  springj 
of  vanity  and  weakness  in  him.  He  is  greatly  irritated  b; 
the  irony  of  Socrates,  but  his  noisy  and  imbecile  rage  only  lay! 
him  more  and  more  open  to  the  thrusts  of  his  assailant.  Hi 
determination  to  cram  down  their  throats,  or  put  “ bodib/  int 
their  souls  ” his  own  words,  elicits  a cry  of  horror  frr 
Socrates.  The  state  of  his  temper  is  quite  as  worthy  of  i 
mark  as  the  process  of  the  argument.  Nothing  is  more  amus- 
ing than  his  complete  submission  when  he  has  been  once  thor- 
oughly beaten.  At  first  he  seems  to  continue  the  disicttssio’i 
with  reluctance,  but  soon  with  apparent  good-will,  and 
testifies  his  interest  at  a later  stage  by  one  or  two  oo 


he  eve  i 
:s(sional 


remarks  (v.  450  A,  B).  When  attacked  by  Glaucon  ('yi.  49^ 


C,  D)  he  is  humorously  protected  by  Socrates  “ as 
has  never  been  his  enemy  and  is  now  his  friend.”  Front 
and  Quintilian  and  from  Aristotle’s  “ Rhetoric  ” (iiil 
ii.  23.  29)  we  learn  that  the  Sophist  whom  Plato  has  rltiade  so 
ridiculous  was  a man  of  note  whose  writings  were  prffiiServc^ 
in  later  ages.  The  play  on  his  name  which  was  made  bj 
contemporary  Herodicus  (Aris.  “ Rhet.”  ii.  23,  29),  “tnol 
wast  ever  bold  in  battle,”  seems  to  show  that  the  description 
of  him  is  not  devoid  of  verisimilitude. 

When  Thrasymachus  has  been  silenced,  the  two  principal 
respondents,  Glaucon  and  Adeimantus,  appear  on  the  scenef 
here,  as  in  Greek  tragedy  (cp.  Introd.  to  “Phaedo”),  threJ 
actors  are  introduced.  At  first  sight  the  two  sons  of  Aristoi| 
may  seem  to  wear  a family  likeness,  like  the  two  friends  Sir 
mias  and  Cebes  in  the  “ Phaedo.”  But  on  a nearer  examina 
tion  of  them  the  similarity  vanishes,  and  they  are  seen  to  bJ 


distinct  characters.  Glaucon  is  the  impetuous  youth  who  cal 
“ just  never  have  enough  of  fechting  ” (cp.  the  character  c 
him  in  Xen.  “ Mem.”  iii.  6) ; the  man  of  pleasure  who  is 


TRANSLATOR’S  INTRODUCTION 


xxix 


acquainted  with  the  mysteries  of  love  (v.  474  D)  ; the  ‘‘  juvenis 
qui  gaudet  canibus/'  and  who  improves  the  breed  of  animals 
(v.  459  A)  ; the  lover  of  art  and  music  (iii.  398  D,  E)  who 
has  all  the  experiences  of  youthful  life.  He  is  full  of  quick- 
ness and  penetration,  piercing  easily  below  the  clumsy  plati- 
tudes of  Thrasymachus  to  the  real  difficulty;  he  turns  out  to 
the  light  the  seamy  side  of  human  life,  and  yet  does  not  lose 
faith  in  the  just  and  true.  It  is  Glaucon  who  seizes  what  may 
be  termed  the  ludicrous  relation  of  the  philosopher  to  the  world, 
to  whom  a state  of  simplicity  is  ‘‘  a city  of  pigs,’"  who  is  al- 
ways prepared  with  a jest  (iii.  398  C,  407  A;  v.  450,  451,  468 
C;  vi.  509  C;  ix.  586)  when  the  argument  offers  him  an  op- 
portunity, and  who  is  ever  ready  to  second  the  humor  of 
Socrates  and  to  apprecate  the  ridiculous,  whether  in  the  con- 
noisseurs of  music  (vii.  531  A)  or  in  the  lovers  of  theatricals 
(v.  475  D)  or  in  the  fantastic  behavior  of  the  citizens  of  de- 
mocracy (viii.  557  foil.).  His  weaknesses  are  several  times 
alluded  to  by  Socrates  (iii.  402  E;  v.  474  D,  475  E),  who, 
however,  will  not  allow  him  to  be  attacked  by  his  brother 
Adeimantus  (viii.  548  D,  E).  He  is  a soldier,  and,  like  Adei- 
mantus,  has  been  distinguished  at  the  battle  of  Megara  (368 
A,  awwo456?).  . . . The  character  of  Adeimantu^s  deeper 
and  graver,  and  the  pro  founder  objections  are  commonly  put 
into  his  mouth.  Glaucon  is  more  demonstrative,  and  generally 
opens  the  game;  Adeimantus  pursues  the  argument  further. 
Glaucon  has  more  of  the  liveliness  and  quick  sympathy  of 
youth;  Adeimantus  has  the  maturer  judgment  of  a grown-up 
man  of  the  world.  In  the  second  book,  when  Glaucon  insists 
that  justice  and  injustice  shall  be  considered  without  regard 
to  their  consequences,  Adeimantus  remarks  that  they  are  re- 
garded by  mankind  in  general  only  for  the  sake  of  their  conse- 
quences; and  in  a similar  vein  of  reflection  he  urges  at  the 
beginning  of  the  fourth  book  that  Socrates  fails  in  making  his 
citizens  happy,  and  is  answered  that  happiness  is  not  the  first, 
but  the  second  thing,  not  the  direct  aim,  but  the  indirect  con- 
sequence of  the  good  government  of  a State.  In  the  discus- 
sion about  religion  and  mythology,  Adeimantus  is  the  re- 
spondent (iii.  376-398)  ; but  at  p.  398  C,  Glaucon  breaks  in 
with  a slight  jest,  and  carries  on  the  conversation  in  a lighter 

tone  about  music  and  gymnastics  to  the  end  of  the  book.  It 
Classics.  Vol.  31 — 2 


XXX 


PLATO 


is  Adeimantus  again  who  volunteers  the  criticism  of  common- 
sense  on  the  Socratic  method  of  argument  (vi.  487  B),  and 
who  refuses  to  let  Socrates  pass  lightly  over  the  question  of 
women  and  children  (v.  449).  It  is  Adeimantus  who  is  the 
respondent  in  the  more  argumentative,  as  Glaucon  in  the 
lighter  and  more  imaginative,  portions  of  the  dialogue.  For 
example,  throughout  the  greater  part  of  the  sixth  book,  the 
causes  of  the  corruption  of  philosophy  and  the  conception  of 
the  idea  of  good  are  discussed  with  Adeimantus.  At  p.  506  C, 
Glaucon  resumes  his  place  of  principal  respondent ; but  he  has 
a difficulty  in  apprehending  the  higher  education  of  Socrates, 
and  makes  some  false  hits  in  the  course  of  the  discussion  (526 
D,  527  D).  Once  more  Adeimantus  returns  (viii.  548)  with 
the  allusion  to  his  brother  Glaucon  whom  he  compares  to  the 
contentious  State;  in  the  next  book  (ix.  576)  he  is  again 
superseded,  and  Glaucon  continues  to  the  end  (x.  621  B). 

Thus  in  a succession  of  characters  Plato  represents  the  suc- 
cessive stages  of  morality,  beginning  with  the  Athenian  gen- 
tleman of  the  olden  time,  who  is  followed  by  the  practical  man 
of  that  day  regulating  his  life  by  proverbs  and  saws;  to  him 
succeeds  the  wild  generalization  of  the  Sophists,  and  lastly 
come  the  young  disciples  of  the  great  teacher,  who  know  the 
sophistical  arguments  but  will  not  be  convinced  by  them,  and 
desire  to  go  deeper  into  the  nature  of  things.  These,  too,  like 
Cephalus,  Polemarchus,  Thrasymachus,  are  clearly  distin- 
guished from  one  another.  Neither  in  the  ‘‘  Republic,”  nor  in 
any  other  dialogue  of  Plato,  is  a single  character  repeated. 

The  delineation  of  Socrates  in  the  Republic  ” is  not  wholly 
consistent.  In  the  first  book  we  have  more  of  the  real  Socrates, 
such  as  he  is  depicted  in  the  Memorabilia  ” of  Xenophon,  in 
the  earliest  dialogues  of  Plato,  and  in  the  “ Apology.”  He 
is  ironical,  provoking,  questioning,  the  old  enemy  of  the 
Sophists,  ready  to  put  on  the  mask  of  Silenus  as  well  as  to 
argue  seriously.  But  in  the  sixth  book  his  enmity  toward  the 
Sophists  abates;  he  acknowledges  that  they  are  the  represen- 
tatives rather  than  the  corrupters  of  the  world  (vi.  492  A), 
He  also  becomes  more  dogmatic  and  constructive,  passing  be- 
yond the  range  either  of  the  political  or  the  speculative  ideas 
of  the  real  Socrates.  In  one  passage  (vi.  506  C)  Plato  him- 
self seems  to  intimate  that  the  time  had  now  come  for  Socrates, 


TRANSLATOR'S  INTRODUCTION 


xxxi 


who  had  passed  his  whole  life  in  philosophy,  to  give  his  own 
opinion  and  not  to  be  always  repeating  the  notions  of  other 
men.  There  is  no  evidence  that  either  the  idea  of  good  or 
the  conception  of  a perfect  state  were  comprehended  in  the 
Socratic  teaching,  though  he  certainly  dwelt  on  the  nature  of 
the  universal  and  of  final  causes  (cp.  Xen.  ‘‘Mem.’’  i.  4; 

Phaedo  97;)  ; and  a deep  thinker  like  him,  in  his  thirty  or 
forty  years  of  public  teaching,  could  hardly  have  failed  to 
touch  on  the  nature  of  family  relations,  for  which  there  is  also 
some  positive  evidence  in  the  Memorabilia’’  Mem.”  i.  2, 
51  foil.).  The  Socratic  method  is  nominally  retained;  and 
every  inference  is  either  put  into  the  mouth  of  the  respondent 
or  represented  as  the  common  discovery  of  him  and  Socrates. 
But  anyone  can  see  that  this  is  a mere  form,  of  which  the  affec- 
tation grows  wearisome  as  the  work  advances.  The  method 
of  inquiry  has  passed  into  a method  of  teaching  in  which  by 
the  help  of  interlocutors  the  same  thesis  is  looked  at  from  vari- 
ous points  of  view.  The  nature  of  the  process  is  truly  charac- 
terized by  Glaucon,  when  he  describes  himself  as  a compan- 
ion who  is  not  good  for  much  in  an  investigation,  but  can 
see  what  he  is  shown  (iv.  432  C),  and  may,  perhaps,  give  the 
answer  to  a question  more  fluently  than  another  (v.  474  A; 
cp.  389  A). 

Neither  can  we  be  absolutely  certain  that  Socrates  himself 
taught  the  immortality  of  the  soul,  which  is  unknown  to  the 
disciple  Glaucon  in  the  ‘‘Republic”  (x.  608  D;  cp.  vi.  498 
D,  E ; “ Apol.”  40,  41 ) ; nor  is  there  any  reason  to  suppose 
that  he  used  myths  or  revelations  of  another  world  as  a vehicle 
of  instruction,  or  that  he  world  have  banished  poetry  or  have 
denounced  the  Greek  mythology.  His  favorite  oath  is  retained, 
and  a slight  mention  is  made  of  the  dcemonium,  or  internal 
sign,  which  is  alluded  to  by  Socrates  as  a phenomenon  peculiar 
to  himself  (vi.  496  C).  A real  element  of  Socratic  teaching, 
which  is  more  prominent  in  the  “ Republic  ” than  in  any  of 
the  other  dialogues  of  Plato,  is  the  use  of  example  and  illus- 
tration (tA  (popriKci  avrS  irpoa(i>epovTe<iy  iv.  442  E)  : “ Let 
us  apply  the  test  of  common  instances.”  “ You,”  says  Adei- 
mantus,  ironically,  in  the  sixth  book,  “ are  so  unaccustomed 
to  speak  in  images.”  And  this  use  of  examples,  or  images, 
though  truly  Socratic  in  origin,  is  enlarged  by  the  genius  of 


XXXll 


PLATO 


Plato  into  the  form  of  an  allegory  or  parable,  which  embodies 
in  the  concrete  what  has  been  already  described,  or  is  about 
to  be  described,  in  the  abstract.  Thus  the  figure  of  the  cave 
in  Book  VII  is  a recapitulation  of  the  divisions  of  knowledge 
in  Book  VI.  The  composite  animal  in  Book  IX  is  an  allegory 
of  the  parts  of  the  soul.  The  noble  captain  and  the  ship  and 
the  true  pilot  in  Book  VI  are  a figure  of  the  relation  of  the 
people  to  the  philosophers  in  the  State  which  has  been  de- 
scribed. Other  figures,  such  as  the  dog  (ii.  375  A,  D;  iii.  404 
A,  416  A;  V.  451  D),  or  the  marriage  of  the  portionless  mai- 
den (vi.  495,  496),  or  the  drones  and  wasps  in  the  eighth  and 
ninth  books,  also  form  links  of  connection  in  long  passages,  or 
are  used  to  recall  previous  discussions. 

Plato  is  most  true  to  the  character  of  his  master  when  he 
describes  him  as  ‘‘  not  of  this  world.’’  And  with  this  repre- 
sentation of  him  the  ideal  State  and  the  other  paradoxes  of 
the  ‘‘  Republic  ” are  quite  in  accordance,  though  they  cannot 
be  shown  to  have  been  speculations  of  Socrates.  To  him,  as 
to  other  great  teachers  both  philosophical  and  religious,  when 
they  looked  upward,  the  world  seemed  to  be  the  embodiment 
of  error  and  evil.  The  common-sense  of  mankind  has  revolted 
against  this  view,  or  has  only  partially  admitted  it.  And  even 
in  Socrates  himself  the  sterner  judgment  of  the  multitude  at 
times  passes  into  a sort  of  ironical  pity  or  love.  Men  in  gen- 
eral are  incapable  of  philosophy,  and  are  therefore  at  enmity 
with  the  philosopher;  but  their  misunderstanding  of  him  is 
unavoidable  (vi.  494  foil.;  ix.  589  D)  : for  they  have  never 
seen  him  as  he  truly  is  in  his  own  image;  they  are  only  ac- 
quainted with  artificial  systems  possessing  no  native  force  of 
truth — words  which  admit  of  many  applications.  Their  lead- 
ers have  nothing  to  measure  with,  and  are  therefore  ignorant 
of  their  own  stature.  But  they  are  to  be  pitied  or  laughed 
at,  not  to  be  quarrelled  with;  they  mean  well  with  their 
nostrums,  if  they  could  only  learn  that  they  are  cutting  oflf 
a hydra’s  head  (iv.  426  D,  E).  This  moderation  toward  those 
who  are  in  error  is  one  of  the  most  characteristic  features  of 
Socrates  in  the  ‘‘Republic”  (vi.  499-502).  In  all  the  differ- 
ent representations  of  Socrates,  whether  of  Xenophon  or  Plato, 
and  amid  the  differences  of  the  earlier  or  later  dialogues,  he 
always  retains  the  character  of  the  unwearied  and  disinter- 


TRANSLATOR’S  INTRODUCTION 


xxxiii 


ested  seeker  after  truth,  without  which  he  would  have  ceased 
to  be  Socrates.  --  * 


There  still  remain  to  be  considered  some  points  which  have 
been  intentionally  reserved  to  the  end:  (I)  The  Janus-like 
character  of  the  “ Republic/’  which  presents  two  faces — one 
a Hellenic  State,  the  other  a kingdom  of  philosophers.  Con- 
nected with  the  latter  of  the  two  aspects  are  (II)  the  para- 
doxes of  the  ‘‘  Republic,”  as  they  have  been  termed  by  Mor- 
genstern:  (a)  the  community  of  property;  (/8)  of  families; 
(7)  the  rule  of  philosophers;  (8)  the  analogy  of  the  individ- 
ual and  the  State,  which,  like  some  other  analogies  in  the  ‘‘  Re- 
public,” is  carried  too  far.  We  may  then  proceed  to  con- 
sider (III)  the  subject  of  education  as  conceived  by  Plato, 
bringing  together  in  a general  view  the  education  of  youth 
and  the  education  of  after-life;  (IV)  we  may  note  further 
some  essential  differences  between  ancient  and  modern  politics 
which  are  suggested  by  the  “Republic”;  (V)  we  may  com- 
pare the  “ Politicus  ” and  the  “Laws”;  (VI)  we  may  ob- 
serve the  influence  exercised  by  Plato  on  his  imitators;  and 
(VII)  take  occasion  to  consider  the  nature  and  value  of  polit- 
ical, and  (VIII)  of  religious  ideals. 

I.  Plato  expressly  says  that  he  is  intending  to  found  a Hel- 
lenic State  (Book  v.  470  E).  Many  of  his  regulations  are 
characteristically  Spartan ; such  as  the  prohibition  of  gold  and 
silver,  the  common  meals  of  the  men,  the  military  training  of 
the  youth,  the  gymnastic  exercises  of  the  women.  The  life 
of  Sparta  was  the  life  of  a camp  (“Laws”  ii.  666  E),  en- 
forced even  more  rigidly  in  time  of  peace  than  in  war  ; the 
citizens  of  Sparta,  like  Plato’s,  were  forbidden  to  trade — they 
were  to  be  soldiers  and  not  shopkeepers.  Nowhere  else  in 
Greece  was  the  individual  so  completely  subjected  to  the  State; 
the  time  when  he  was  to  marry,  the  education  of  his  children, 
the  clothes  which  he  was  to  wear,  the  food  which  he  was  to 
eat,  were  all  prescribed  by  law.  Some  of  the  best  enactments 
in  the  “ Republic,”  such  as  the  reverence  to  be  paid  to  parents 
and  elders,  and  some  of  the  worst,  such  as  the  exposure  of 
deformed  children,  are  borrowed  from  the  practice  of  Sparta. 
The  encouragement  of  friendships  between  men  and  youth,  or 


XXXIV 


PLATO 


of  men  with  one  another,  as  affording  incentives  to  bravery, 
is  also  Spartan ; in  Sparta,  too,  a nearer  approach  was 
made  than  in  any  other  Greek  State  to  equality  of  the 
sexes,  and  to  community  of  property;  and  while  there  was 
probably  less  of  licentiousness  in  the  sense  of  immorality, 
the  tie  of  marriage  was  regarded  more  lightly  than  in  the  rest 
of  Greece.  The  suprema  lex  was  the  preservation  of  the  fam- 
ily and  the  interest  of  the  State.  The  coarse  strength  of  a 
military  government  was  not  favorable  to  purity  and  refine- 
ment; and  the  excessive  strictness  of  some  regulations  seems 
to  have  produced  a reaction.  Of  all  Hellenes  the  Spartans  were 
most  accessible  to  bribery;  several  of  the  greatest  of  them 
might  be  described  in  the  words  of  Plato  as  having  a ‘‘  fierce 
secret  longing  after  gold  and  silver.’^  Though  not  in  the  strict 
sense  communists,  the  principle  of  communism  was  maintained 
among  them  in  their  division  of  lands,  in  their  common  meals, 
in  their  slaves,  and  in  the  free  use  of  one  another’s  goods. 
Marriage  was  a public  institution;  and  the  women  were  edu- 
cated by  the  State,  and  sang  and  danced  in  public  with  the 
men. 

Many  traditions  were  preserved  at  Sparta  of  the  severity 
with  which  the  magistrates  had  maintained  the  primitive  rule 
of  music  and  poetry ; as  in  the  Republic  ” of  Plato,  the  new- 
fangled poet  was  to  be  expelled.  Hymns  to  the  gods,  which 
are  the  only  kind  of  music  admitted  into  the  ideal  State,  were 
the  only  kind  which  was  permitted  at  Sparta.  The  Spartans, 
though  an  unpoetical  race,  were  nevertheless  lovers  of  poetry; 
they  had  been  stirred  by  the  Elegiac  strains  of  Tyrtseus,  they 
had  crowded  around  Hippias  to  hear  his  recitals  of  Homer; 
but  in  this  they  resembled  the  citizens  of  the  timocratic  rather 
than  of  the  ideal  State  (548  E).  The  council  of  elder  men 
also  corresponds  to  the  Spartan  gerousia;  and  the  freedom 
with  which  they  are  permitted  to  judge  about  matters  of  de- 
tail agrees  with  what  we  are  told  of  that  institution.  Once 
more,  the  military  rule  of  not  despoiling  the  dead  or  offering 
arms  at  the  temples ; the  moderation  in  the  pursuit  of  enemies ; 
the  importance  attached  to  the  physical  well-being  of  the  citi- 
zens; the  use  of  warfare  for  the  sake  of  defence  rather  than 
of  aggression — are  features  probably  suggested  by  the  spirit 
and  practice  of  Sparta. 


TRANSLATOR'S  INTRODUCTION 


XXXV 


To  the  Spartan  type  the  ideal  State  reverts  in  the  first  de- 
cline; and  the  character  of  the  individual  timocrat  is  bor- 
rowed from  the  Spartan  citizen.  The  love  of  Lacedaemon  not 
only  affected  Plato  and  Xenophon,  but  was  shared  by  many 
undistinguished  Athenians ; there  they  seemed  to  find  a prin- 
ciple which  was  wanting  in  their  own  democracy.  The  ev/coa/juia 
of  the  Spartans  attracted  them,  that  is  to  say,  not  the  good- 
ness of  their  laws,  but  the  spirit  of  order  and  loyalty  which 
prevailed.  Fascinated  by  the  idea,  citizens  of  Athens  would 
imitate  the  Lacedaemonians  in  their  dress  and  manners;  they 
were  known  to  the  contemporaries  of  Plato  as  ‘‘  the  persons 
who  had  their  ears  bruised,’'  like  the  Roundheads  of  the  com- 
monwealth. The  love  of  another  church  or  country  when  seen 
at  a distance  only,  the  longing  for  an  imaginary  simplicity  in 
civilized  times,  the  fond  desire  of  a past  which  never  has  been, 
or  of  a future  which  never  will  be — these  are  aspirations  of 
the  human  mind  which  are  often  felt  among  ourselves.  Such 
feelings  meet  with  a response  in  the  ''  Republic  ” of  Plato. 

But  there  are  other  features  of  the  Platonic  ''  Republic,”  as, 
for  example,  the  literary  and  philosophical  education,  and  the 
grace  and  beauty  of  life,  which  are  the  reverse  of  Spartan. 
Plato  wishes  to  give  his  citizens  a taste  of  Athenian  freedom 
as  well  as  of  Lacedaemonian  discipline.  His  individual  genius 
is  purely  Athenian,  although  in  theory  he  is  a lover  of  Sparta ; 
and  he  is  something  more  than  either — he  has  also  a true  Hel- 
lenic feeling.  He  is  desirous  of  humanizing  the  wars  of  Hel- 
lenes against  one  another ; he  acknowledges  that  the  Delphian 
god  is  the  grand  hereditary  interpreter  of  all  Hellas.  The 
spirit  of  harmony  and  the  Dorian  mode  are  to  prevail,  and 
the  whole  State  is  to  have  an  external  beauty  which  is  the 
reflex  of  the  harmony  within.  But  he  has  not  yet  found  out 
the  truth  which  he  afterwards  enunciated  in  the  ‘‘Laws”  (i. 
628  D) — that  he  was  a better  legislator  who  made  men  to  be 
of  one  mind  than  he  who  trained  them  for  war.  The  citizens, 
as  in  other  Hellenic  States,  democratic  as  well  as  aristocratic, 
are  really  an  upper  class;  for,  although  no  mention  is  made 
of  slaves,  the  lower  classes  are  allowed  to  fade  away  into  the 
distance,  and  are  represented  in  the  individual  by  the  passions. 
Plato  has  no  idea  either  of  a social  State  in  which  all  classes 
are  harmonized,  or  of  a federation  of  Hellas  or  the  world  in 


xxxvi 


PLATO 


which  different  nations  or  States  have  a place.  His  city  is 
equipped  for  war  rather  than  for  peace,  and  this  would  seem 
to  be  justified  by  the  ordinary  condition  of  Hellenic  States. 
The  myth  of  the  earth-born  men  is  an  embodiment  of  the 
orthodox  tradition  of  Hellas,  and  the  allusion  to  the  four  ages 
of  the  world  is  also  sanctioned  by  the  authority  of  Hesiod  and 
the  poets.  Thus  we  see  that  the  Republic  is  partly  founded 
on  the  ideal  of  the  old  Greek  polls,  partly  on  the  actual  cir- 
cumstances of  Hellas  in  that  age.  Plato,  like  the  old  painters, 
retains  the  traditional  form,  and  like  them  he  has  also  a vision 
of  a city  in  the  clouds. 

There  is  yet  another  thread  which  is  interwoven  in  the  text- 
ure of  the  work ; for  the  Republic  is  not  only  a Dorian  State, 
but  a Pythagorean  league.  The  way  of  life  ’’  which  was 
connected  with  the  name  of  Pythagoras,  like  the  Catholic 
monastic  orders,  showed  the  power  which  the  mind  of  an  indi- 
vidual might  exercise  over  his  contemporaries,  and  may  have 
naturally  suggested  to  Plato  the  possibility  of  reviving  such 

mediaeval  institutions.’’  The  Pythagoreans,  like  Plato,  en- 
forced a rule  of  life  and  a moral  and  intellectual  training.  The 
influence  ascribed  to  music,  which  to  us  seems  exaggerated, 
is  also  a Pythagorean  feature ; it  is  not  to  be  regarded  as  rep- 
resenting the  real  influence  of  music  in  the  Greek  world.  More 
nearly  than  any  other  government  of  Hellas,  the  Pythagorean 
league  of  300  was  an  aristocracy  of  virtue.  For  once  in  thq 
history  of  mankind  the  philosophy  of  order  or  Koafio^,  ex- 
pressing and  consequently  enlisting  on  its  side  the  combined 
endeavors  of  the  better  part  of  the  people,  obtained  the  man- 
agement of  public  affairs  and  held  possession  of  it  for  a con- 
siderable time  (until  about  b.c.  500).  Probably  only  in  States 
prepared  by  Dorian  institutions  would  such  a league  have  been 
possible.  The  rulers,  like  Plato’s  cpvXaKe^;,  were  required  to 
submit  to  a severe  training  in  order  to  prepare  the  way  for 
the  education  of  the  other  members  of  the  community.  Long 
after  the  dissolution  of  the  order,  eminent  Pythagoreans,  such 
as  Archytas  of  Tarentum,  retained  their  political  influence  over 
the  cities  of  Magna  Grsecia.  There  was  much  here  that  was 
suggestive  to  the  kindred  spirit  of  Plato,  who  had  doubtless 
meditated  deeply  on  the  ‘‘  way  of  life  of  Pythagoras  ” C'  Rep.” 
X.  600  B)  and  his  followers.  Slight  traces  of  Pythagorea/7> 


TRANSLATOR’S  INTRODUCTION 


xxxvii 


ism  are  to  be  found  in  the  mystical  number  of  the  State,  in 
the  number  which  expresses  the  interval  between  the  king  and 
the  tyrant,  in  the  doctrine  of  transmigration,  in  the  music  of 
the  spheres,  as  well  as  in  the  great  though  secondary  importance 
ascribed  to  mathematics  in  education. 

But  as  in  his  philosophy,  so  also  in  the  form  of  his  State, 
he  goes  far  beyond  the  old  Pythagoreans.  He  attempts  a task 
really  impossible,  which  is  to  unite  the  past  of  Greek  history 
with  the  future  of  philosophy,  analogous  to  that  other  impossi- 
bility, which  has  often  been  the  dream  of  Christendom,  the 
attempt  to  unite  the  past  history  of  Europe  with  the  kingdom 
of  Christ.  Nothing  actually  existing  in  the  world  at  all  resem- 
bles Plato’s  ideal  State;  nor  does  he  himself  imagine  that 
such  a State  is  possible.  This  he  repeats  again  and  again ; 
e.g.,  in  the  Republic  ” (ix.  sub  fin.),  or  in  the  “ Laws  ” (Book 
V.  739 )j  where,  casting  a glance  back  on  the  ‘‘Republic,”  he 
admits  that  the  perfect  state  of  communism  and  philosophy 
was  impossible  in  his  own  age,  though  still  to  be  retained  as 
a pattern.  The  same  doubt  is  implied  in  the  earnestness  with 
which  he  argues  in  the  “Republic”  (v.  472  D)  that  ideals 
are  none  the  worse  because  they  cannot  be  realized  in  fact, 
and  in  the  chorus  of  laughter,  which  like  a breaking  wave 
will,  as  he  anticipates,  greet  the  mention  of  his  proposals; 
though  like  other  writers  of  fiction,  he  uses  all  his  art  to  give 
reality  to  his  inventions.  When  asked  how  the  ideal  polity 
can  come  into  being,  he  answers  ironically,  “ When  one  son 
of  a king  becomes  a philosopher ; ” he  designates  the  fiction 
of  the  earth-born  men  as  “ a noble  lie  ” ; and  when  the  struct- 
ure is  finally  complete,  he  fairly  tells  you  that  his  republic  is 
a vision  only,  which  in  some  sense  may  have  reality,  but  not 
in  the  vulgar  one  of  a reign  of  philosophers  upon  earth.  It 
has  been  said  that  Plato  flies  as  well  as  walks,  but  this  falls 
short  of  the  truth;  for  he  flies  and  walks  at  the  same  time, 
and  is  in  thv  air  and  on  firm  ground  in  successive  instants. 

Niebuhr  has  asked  a trifling  question,  which  may  be  briefly 
noticed  in  this  place — Was  Plato  a good  citizen?  If  by  this 
is  meant.  Was  he  loyal  to  Athenian  institutions? — he  can 
hardly  be  said  to  be  the  friend  of  democracy:  but  neither  is 
he  the  friend  of  any  other  ^^xisting  form  of  government; 
all  of  them  he  regarded  as  “ states  of  faction  ” (“  Laws  ” viii. 


xxxviii 


PLATO 


832  C)  ; none  attained  to  his  ideal  of  a voluntary  rule  over  volun- 
tary subjects,  which  seems  indeed  more  nearly  to  describe  de- 
mocracy than  any  other;  and  the  worst  of  them  is  tyranny. 
The  truth  is  that  the  question  has  hardly  any  meaning  when 
applied  to  a great  philosopher  whose  writings  are  not  meant 
for  a particular  age  and  country,  but  for  all  time  and  all  man- 
kind. The  decline  of  Athenian  politics  was  probably  the  mo- 
tive which  led  Plato  to  frame  an  ideal  State,  and  the  Republic 
may  be  regarded  as  reflecting  the  departing  glory  of  Hellas. 
As  well  might  we  complain  of  St.  Augustine,  whose  great 
work  ‘‘  The  City  of  God  ’’  originated  in  a similar  motive,  for 
not  being  loyal  to  the  Roman  Empire.  Even  a nearer  parallel 
might  be  afforded  by  the  first  Christians,  who  cannot  fairly 
be  charged  with  being  bad  citizens  because,  though  ‘‘  subject 
to  the  higher  powers,’’  they  were  looking  forward  to  a city 
which  is  in  heaven. 

' II.  The  idea  of  the  perfect  State  is  full  of  paradox  when 
judged  of  according  to  the  ordinary  notions  of  mankind.  The 
paradoxes  of  one  age  have  been  said  to  become  the  common- 
places of  the  next;  but  the  paradoxes  of  Plato  are  at  least  as 
paradoxical  to  us  as  they  were  to  his  contemporaries.  The 
modern  world  has  either  sneered  at  them  as  absurd,  or  de- 
nounced them  as  unnatural  and  immoral;  men  have  been 
pleased  to  find  in  Aristotle’s  criticisms  of  them  the  anticipation 
of  their  own  good  sense.  The  wealthy  and  cultivated  classes 
have  disliked  and  also  dreaded  them;  they  have  pointed  with 
satisfaction  to  the  failure  of  efforts  to  realize  them  in  prac- 
tice. Yet  since  they  are  the  thoughts  of  one  of  the  greatest  of 
human  intelligences,  and  of  one  who  has  done  most  to  elevate 
morality  and  religion,  they  seem  to  deserve  a better  treatment 
at  our  hands.  We  may  have  to  address  the  public,  as  Plato 
does  poetry,  and  assure  them  that  we  mean  no  harm  to  exist- 
ing institutions.  There  are  serious  errors  which  have  a r>ide 
of  truth  and  which  therefore  may  fairly  demand  a careful  con- 
sideration: there  are  truths  mixed  with  error  of  which  we 
may  indeed  say,  ‘‘  The  half  is  better  than  the  whole.”  Yet 
the  half  ” may  be  an  important  contribution  to  the  study  of 
human  nature. 

{a)  The  first  paradox  is  the  community  of  goods,  which  is 


TRANSLATOR’S  IN'];:R0DUCTI0N 


XXXIX 


mentioned  slightly  at  the  end  of  the  third  book,  and  seemingly, 
as  Aristotle  observes,  is  confined  to  the  guardians;  at  least 
no  mention  is  made  of  the  other  classes.  But  the  omission  is 
not  of  any  real  significance,  and  probably  arises  out  of  the 
plan  of  the  work,  which  prevents  the  writer  from  entering 
into  details. 

Aristotle  censures  the  community  of  property  much  in  the 
spirit  of  modern  political  economy,  as  tending  to  repress  in- 
dustry, and  as  doing  away  with  the  spirit  of  benevolence. 
Modern  writers  almost  refuse  to  consider  the  subject,  which 
is  supposed  to  have  been  long  ago  settled  by  the  common  opin- 
ion of  mankind.  But  it  must  be  remembered  that  the  sacred- 
ness of  property  is  a notion  far  more  fixed  in  modern  than  in 
ancient  times.  The  world  has  grown  older,  and  is  therefore 
more  conservative.  Primitive  society  offered  many  examples 
of  land  held  in  common,  either  by  a tribe  or  by  a township, 
and  such  may  probably  have  been  the  original  form  of  landed 
tenure.  Ancient  legislators  had  invented  various  modes  of 
dividing  and  preserving  the  divisions  of  land  among  the  citi- 
zens; according  to  Aristotle  there  were  nations  who  held  the 
land  in  common  and  divided  the  produce,  and  there  were  others 
who  divided  the  land  and  stored  the  produce  in  common.  The 
evils  of  debt  and  the  inequality  of  property  were  far  greater 
in  ancient  than  in  modern  times,  and  the  accidents  to  which 
property  was  subject  from  war,  or  revolution,  or  taxation,  or 
other  legislative  interference,  were  also  greater.  All  these  cir- 
cumstances gave  property  a less  fixed  and  sacred  character. 
The  early  Christians  are  believed  to  have  held  their  property 
in  common,  and  the  principle  is  sanctioned  by  the  words  of 
Christ  himself,  and  has  beeri  maintained  as  a counsel  of  per- 
fection in  almost  all  ages  of  the  Church.  Nor  have  there  been 
wanting  instances  of  modern  enthusiasts  who  have  made  a 
religion  of  communism;  in  every  age  of  religious  excitement 
notions  like  Wycliffe’s  ‘‘  Inheritance  of  Grace  ’’  have  tended  to 
prevail.  A like  spirit,  but  fiercer  and  more  violent,  has  a"^- 
peared  in  politics.  The  preparation  of  the  gospel  of  peace  ” 
soon  becomes  the  red  flag  of  republicanism. 

We  can  hardly  judge  what  effect  Plato's  views  would  have 
upon  his  own  contemporaries ; they  would  perhaps  have 
seemed  to  them  only  an  exaggeration  of  the  Spartan  Common- 


PLATO 


xl 

wealth.  Even  modern  writers  would  acknowledge  that  the 
right  of  private  property  is  based  on  expediency,  and  may  be 
interfered  with  in  a variety  of  ways  for  the  public  good.  Any 
other  mode  of  vesting  property  which  was  found  to  be  more 
advantageous,  would  in  time  acquire  the  same  basis  of  right; 
''  the  most  useful,''  in  Plato's  words,  ‘‘  would  be  the  most 
sacred."  The  lawyers  and  ecclesiastics  of  former  ages  would 
have  spoken  of  property  as  a sacred  institution.  But  they  only 
meant  by  such  language  to  oppose  the  greatest  amount  of  re- 
sistance to  any  invasion  of  the  rights  of  individuals  and  of 
the  Church. 

When  we  consider  the  question,  without  any  fear  imme- 
diate application  to  practice,  in  the  spirit  of  Plato's  ‘‘  Republic," 
are  we  quite  sure  that  the  received  notions  of  property  are  the 
best?  Is  the  distribution  of  wealth  which  is  customary  in 
civilized  countries  the  most  favorable  that  can  be  conceived 
for  the  education  and  development  of  the  mass  of  mankind? 
Can  ‘‘  the  spectator  of  all  time  and  all  existence  " be  quite  con- 
vinced that  one  or  two  thousand  years  hence,  great  changes  will 
not  have  taken  place  in  the  rights  of  property,  or  even  that  the 
very  notion  of  property,  beyond  what  is  necessary  for  personal 
maintenance,  may  not  have  disappeared?  This  was  a dis- 
tinction familiar  to  Aristotle,  though  likely  to  be  laughed  at 
among  ourselves.  Such  a change  would  not  be  greater  than 
some  other  changes  through  which  the  world  has  passed  in  the 
transition  from  ancient  to  modern  society,  for  example,  the 
emancipation  of  the  serfs  in  Russia,  or  the  abolition  of  slavery 
in  America  and  the  West  Indies ; and  not  so  great  as  the  dif- 
ference which  separates  the  Eastern  village  community  from 
the  Western  world.  To  accomplish  such  a revolution  in  the 
course  of  a few  centuries,  would  imply  a rate  of  progress  not 
more  rapid  than  has  actually  taken  place  during  the  last 
fifty  or  sixty  years.  The  Empire  of  Japan  underwent  more 
change  in  five  or  six  years  than  Europe  in  five  or  six  hundred. 
Many  opinions  and  beliefs  which  have  been  cherished  among 
ourselves  quite  as  strongly  as  the  sacredness  of  property  have 
passed  away;  and  the  most  untenable  propositions  respecting 
the  right  of  bequests  or  entail  have  been  maintained  with  as 
much  fervor  as  the  most  moderate.  Someone  will  be  heard  to 
ask  whether  a state  of  society  can  be  final  in  which  the  inter- 


TRANSLATOR'S  INTRODUCTION 


xli 


ests  of  thousands  are  perilled  on  the  life  or  character  of  a 
single  person.  And  many  will  indulge  the  hope  that  our  pres- 
ent condition  may,  after  all,  be  only  transitional,  and  may  con- 
duct to  a higher,  in  which  property,  beside  ministering  to  the 
enjoyment  of  the  few,  may  also  furnish  the  means  of  the  higli- 
est  culture  to  all,  and  will  be  a greater  benefit  to  the  public 
generally,  and  also  more  under  the  control  of  public  authority. 
There  may  come  a time  when  the  saying,  ''  Have  I not  a right 
to  do  what  I will  with  my  own  ? will  appear  to  be  a bar- 
bafpus  relic  of  individualism;  when  the  possession  of  a part 
may  be  a greater  blessing  to  each  and  all  than  the  possession 
of  th^ whole  is  now  to  anyone. 

ouch  reflections  appear  visionary  to  the  eye  of  the  practical 
statesman,  but  they  are  within  the  range  of  possibility  to  the 
philosopher.  He  can  imagine  that  in  some  distant  age  or 
clime,  and  through  the  influence  of  some  individual,  the  notion 
of  common  property  may  or  might  have  sunk  as  deep  into  the 
heart  of  a race,  and  have  become  as  fixed  to  them,  as  private 
property  is  to  ourselves.  He  knows  that  this  latter  institu- 
tion is  not  more  than  four  or  five  thousand  years  old:  may 
not  the  end  revert  to  the  beginning?  In  our  own  age  even 
Utopias  affect  the  spirit  of  legislation,  and  an  abstract  idea 
may  exercise  a great  influence  on  practical  politics. 

The  objections  that  would  be  generally  urged  against  Plato's 
community  of  property  are  the  old  ones  of  Aristotle,  that  mo- 
tives for  exertion  would  be  taken  away,  and  that  disputes 
would  arise  when  each  was  dependent  upon  all.  Every  man 
would  produce  as  little  and  consume  as  much  as  he  liked.  The 
experience  of  civilized  nations  has  hitherto  been  adverse  to 
socialism.  The  effort  is  too  great  for  human  nature;  men 
try  to  live  in  common,  but  the  personal  feeling  is  always  break- 
ing in.  On  the  other  hand  it  may  be  doubted  whether  our 
present  notions  of  property  are  not  conventional,  for  they  dif- 
fer in  different  countries  and  in  different  states  of  society.  We 
boast  of  an  individualism  which  is  not  freedom,  but  rather  an 
artificial  result  of  the  industrial  state  of  modern  Europe.  The 
individual  is  nominally  free,  but  he  is  also  powerless  in  a world 
bound  hand  and  foot  in  the  chains  of  economic  necessity.  Even 
if  we  cannot  expect  the  mass  of  mankind  to  become  disinter- 
ested, at  any  rate  we  observe  in  them  a power  of  organization 


xlii 


PLATO 


which  fifty  years  ago  would  never  have  been  suspected.  The 
same  forces  which  have  revolutionized  the  political  system  of 
Europe  may  effect  a similar  change  in  the  social  and  indus- 
trial relations  of  mankind.  And  if  we  suppose  the  influence 
of  some  good  as  well  as  neutral  motives  working  in  the  com- 
munity, there  will  be  no  absurdity  in  expecting  that  the  mass 
of  mankind  having  power,  and  becoming  enlightened  about  the 
higher  possibilities  of  human  life,  when  they  learn  how  much 
more  is  attainable  for  all  than  is  at  present  the  possession  of 
a favored  few,  may  pursue  the  common  interest  with  an  intel- 
ligence and  persistency  which  mankind  have  hitherto  never 
seen. 

Now  that  the  world  has  once  been  set  in  motion,  and  is  no 
longer  held  fast  under  the  tyranny  of  custom  and  ignorance; 
now  that  criticism  has  pierced  the  veil  of  tradition  and  the 
past  no  longer  overpowers  the  present — the  progress  of  civili- 
zation may  be  expected  to  be  far  greater  and  swifter  than  here- 
tofore. Even  at  our  present  rate  of  speed  the  point  at  which 
we  may  arrive  in  two  or  three  generations  is  beyond  the  power 
of  imagination  to  foresee.  There  are  forces  in  the  world 
which  work,  not  in  an  arithmetical,  but  in  a geometrical  ratio 
of  increase.  Education,  to  use  the  expression  of  Plato,  moves 
like  a wheel  with  an  ever-multiplying  rapidity.  Nor  can  we 
say  how  great  may  be  its  influence,  when  it  becomes  universal 
— when  it  has  been  inherited  by  many  generations — when  it  is 
freed  from  the  trammels  of  superstition  and  rightly  adapted 
to  the  wants  and  capacities  of  different  classes  of  men  and 
women.  Neither  do  we  know  how  much  more  the  co-opera- 
tion of  minds  or  of  hands  may  be  capable  of  accomplishing, 
whether  in  labor  or  in  study.  The  resources  of  the  natural 
sciences  are  not  half  developed  as  yet;  the  soil  of  the  earth, 
instead  of  growing  more  barren,  may  become  many  times  more 
fertile  than  hitherto;  the  uses  of  machinery  far  greater  and 
also  more  minute  than  at  present.  New  secrets  of  physiology 
may  be  revealed,  deeply  affecting  human  nature  in  its  inner- 
most recesses.  The  standard  of  health  may  be  raised  and  the 
lives  of  men  prolonged  by  sanitary  and  medical  knowledge. 
There  may  be  peace,  there  may  be  leisure,  there  may  be  inno- 
cent refreshments  of  many  kinds.  The  ever-increasing  power 
of  locomotion  may  join  the  extremes  of  earth.  There  may 


TRANSLATOR'S  INTRODUCTION 


xliii 


be  mysterious  workings  of  the  human  mind,  such  as  occur 
only  at  great  crises  of  history.  The  East  and  the  West  may 
meet  together,  and  all  nations  may  contribute  their  thoughts 
and  their  experience  to  the  common  stock  of  humanity.  Many 
other  elements  enter  into  a speculation  of  this  kind.  But  it 
is  better  to  make  an  end  of  them.  For  such  reflections  appear 
to  the  majority  far-fetched,  and,  to  men  of  science,  common- 
place. 

(/3)  Neither  to  the  mind  of  Plato  nor  of  Aristotle  did  the 
doctrine  of  community  of  property  present  at  all  the  same  dif- 
ficulty, or  appear  to  be  the  same  violation  of  the  common  Hel- 
lenic sentiment,  as  the  community  of  wives  and  children.  This 
paradox  he  prefaces  by  another  proposal,  that  the  occupations 
of  men  and  women  shall  be  the  same,  and  that  to  this  end  they 
shall  have  a common  training  and  education.  Male  and  female 
animals  have  the  same  pursuits — why  not  also  the  two  sexes 
of  man? 

But  have  we  not  here  fallen  into  a contradiction?  for  we 
were  saying  that  different  natures  should  have  different  pur- 
suits. How  then  can  men  and  women  have  the  same?  And 
is  not  the  proposal  inconsistent  with  our  notion  of  the  divis- 
ion of  labor? — These  objections  are  no  sooner  raised  than  an- 
swered; for,  according  to  Plato,  there  is  no  organic  differ- 
ence between  men  and  women,  but  only  the  accidental  one  that 
men  beget  and  women  bear  children.  Following  the  analogy 
of  the  other  animals,  he  contends  that  all  natural  gifts  are  scat- 
tered about  indifferently  among  both  sexes,  though  there  may 
be  a superiority  of  degree  on  the  part  of  the  men.  The  objec- 
tion on  the  score  of  decency  to  their  taking  part  in  the  same 
gymnastic  exercises,  is  met  by  Plato’s  assertion  that  the  exist- 
ing feeling  is  a matter  of  habit. 

That  Plato  should  have  emancipated  himself  from  the  ideas 
of  his  own  country  and  from  the  example  of  the  East,  shows 
a wonderful  independence  of  mind.  He  is  conscious  that 
women  are  half  the  human  race,  in  some  respects  the  more 
important  half  (''Laws”  vi.  781  B)  ; and  for  the  sake  both 
of  men  and  women  he  desires  to  raise  the  woman  to  a higher 
level  of  existence.  He  brings,  not  sentiment,  but  philosophy 
to  bear  upon  a question  which  both  in  ancient  and  modern  times 
has  been  chiefly  regarded  in  the  light  of  custom  or  feeling. 


xliv 


PLATO 


The  Greeks  had  noble  conceptions  of  womanhood  in  the  god- 
desses Athene  and  Artemis,  and  in  the  heroines  Antigone  and 
Andromache.  But  these  ideals  had  no  counterpart  in  actual 
life.  The  Athenian  woman  was  in  no  way  the  equal  of  her 
husband;  she  was  not  the  entertainer  of  his  guests  or  the 
mistress  of  his  house,  but  only  his  housekeeper  and  the  mother 
of  his  children.  She  took  no  part  in  military  or  political  mat- 
ters; nor  is  there  any  instance  in  the  later  ages  of  Greece  of 
a woman  becoming  famous  in  literature.  Hers  is  the  greatest 
glory  who  has  the  least  renown  among  men  ’’  is  the  historian's 
conception  of  feminine  excellence.  A very  different  ideal  of 
womanhood  is  held  up  by  Plato  to  the  world;  she  is  to  be 
the  companion  of  the  man,,  and  to  share  with  him  in  the  toils 
of  war  and  in  the  cares  of  government.  She  is  to  be  similarly 
trained  both  in  bodily  and  mental  exercises.  She  is  to  lose  as 
far  as  possible  the  incidents  of  maternity  and  the  characteris- 
tics of  the  female  sex. 

The  modern  antagonist  of  the  equality  of  the  sexes  would 
argue  that  the  differences  between  men  and  women  are  not 
confined  to  the  single  point  urged  by  Plato;  that  sensibility, 
gentleness,  grace  are  the  qualities  of  women,  while  energy, 
strength,  higher  intelligence  are  to  be  looked  for  in  men.  And 
the  criticism  is  just:  the  differences  affect  the  whole  nature, 
and  are  not,  as  Plato  supposes,  confined  to  a single  point.  But 
neither  can  we  say  how  far  these  differences  are  due  to  edu- 
cation and  the  opinions  of  mankind,  or  physically  inherited  from 
the  habits  and  opinions  of  former  generations.  Women  have 
been  always  taught,  not  exactly  that  they  are  slaves,  but  that 
they  are  in  an  inferior  position,  which  is  also  supposed  to  have 
compensating  advantages ; and  to  this  position  they  have  con- 
formed. It  is  also  true  that  the  physical  form  may  easily  change 
in  the  course  of  generations  through  the  mode  of  life ; and  the 
weakness  or  delicacy,  which  was  once  a matter  of  opinion,  may 
become  a physical  fact.  The  characteristics  of  sex  vary  greatly 
in  different  countries  and  ranks  of  society,  and  at  different 
ages  in  the  same  individuals.  Plato  may  have  been  right  in 
denying  that  there  was  any  ultimate  difference  in  the  sexes 
of  man  other  than  that  which  exists  in  animals,  because  all 
other  differences  may  be  conceived  to  disappear  in  other  states 
of  society,  or  under  different  circumstances  of  life  and  training. 


TRANSLATOR’S  INTRODUCTION 


xlv 


The  first  wave  having  been  passed,  we  proceed  to  the  second 
— community  of  wives  and  children.  ‘‘  Is  it  possible  ? Is  it 
desirable?’’  For,  as  Glaucon  intimates,  and  as  we  far  more 
strongly  insist,  ‘‘  great  doubts  may  be  entertained  about  both 
these  points.”  Any  free  discussion  of  the  question  is  impos- 
sible, and  mankind  are  perhaps  right  in  not  allowing  the  ulti- 
mate bases  of  social  life  to  be  examined.  Few  of  us  can  safely 
inquire  into  the  things  which  nature  hides,  any  more  than  we 
can  dissect  our  own  bodies.  Still,  the  manner  in  which  Plato 
arrived  at  his  conclusions  should  be  considered.  For  here,  as 
Mr.  Grote  has  remarked,  is  a wonderful  thing,  that  one  of 
the  wisest  and  best  of  men  should  have  entertained  ideas  of 
morality  which  are  wholly  at  variance  with  our  own.  And  if 
we  would  do  Plato  justice,  we  must  examine  carefully  the  char- 
acter of  his  proposals.  First,  we  may  observe  that  the  rela- 
tions of  the  sexes  supposed  by  him  are  the  reverse  of  licen- 
tious: he  seems  rather  to  aim  at  an  impossible  strictness. 
Secondly,  he  conceives  the  family  to  be  the  natural  enemy  of 
the  State;  and  he  entertains  the  serious  hope  that  a universal 
brotherhood  may  take  the  place  of  private  interests — an  aspira- 
tion which,  although  not  justified  by  experience,  has  possessed 
many  noble  minds.  On  the  other  hand,  there  is  no  sentiment 
or  imagination  in  the  connections  which  men  and  women  are 
supposed  by  him  to  form;  human  beings  return  to  the  level 
of  the  animals,  neither  exalting  to  heaven  nor  yet  abusing  the 
natural  instincts.  All  that  world  of  poetry  and  fancy  which 
the  passion  of  love  has  called  forth  in  modern  literature  and 
romance  would  have  been  banished  by  Plato.  The  arrange- 
ments of  marriage  in  the  Republic  are  directed  to  one  object 
— the  improvement  of  the  race.  In  successive  generations  a 
great  development  both  of  bodily  and  mental  qualities  might 
be  possible.  The  analogy  of  animals  tends  to  show  that  man- 
kind can  within  certain  limits  receive  a change  of  nature.  And 
as  in  animals  we  should  commonly  choose  the  best  for  breed- 
ing, and  destroy  the  others,  so  there  must  be  a selection  made 
of  the  human  beings  whose  lives  are  worthy  to  be  preserved. 

We  start  back  horrified  from  this  Platonic  ideal,  in  the  be- 
lief, first,  that  the  higher  feelings  of  humanity  are  far  too 
strong  to  be  crushed  out;  secondly,  that  if  the  plan  could  be 
carried  into  execution  we  should  be  poorly  recompensed  by 


xlvi 


PLATO 


improvements  in  the  breed  for  the  loss  of  the  best  things  in  life. 
The  greatest  regard  for  the  weakest  and  meanest  of  human 
beings — the  infant,  the  criminal,  the  insane,  the  idiot — truly 
seems  to  us  one  of  the  noblest  results  of  Christianity.  We  have 
learned,  though  as  yet  imperfectly,  that  the  individual  man  has 
an  endless  value  in  the  sight  of  God,  and  that  we  ho^r  Hmi 
when  we  honor  the  darkened  and  jil^figurprl  image  of  Him 
(cp.  “Laws”  xi.  931  A).  This  is  the  lesson'^'^TcfT  Christ 
taught  in  a parable  when  he  said,  “ Their  angels  do  always  be- 
hold the  face  of  my  Father  which  is  in  heaven.”  Such  lessons 
are  only  partially  realized  in  any  age;  they  were  foreign  to 
the  age  of  Plato,  as  they  have  very  different  degrees  of  strength 
in  different  countries  or  ages  of  the  Christian  world.  To  the 
Greek  the  family  was  a religious  and  customary  institution 
binding  the  members  together  by  a tie  inferior  in  strength  to 
that  of  friendship,  and  having  a less  solemn  and  sacred  sound 
than  that  of  country.  The  relationship  which  existed  on  the 
lower  level  of  custom,  Plato  imagined  that  he  was  raising  to 
the  higher  level  of  nature  and  reason ; while  from  the  modern 
and  Christian  point  of  view  we  regard  him  as  sanctioning  mur- 
der and  destroying  the  first  principles  of  morality. 

The  great  error  in  these  and  similar  speculations  is  that 
the  difference  between  man  and  the  animals  is  forgotten  in 
them.  The  human  being  is  regarded  with  the  eye  of  a dog 
or  bird-fancier  (v.  459  A),  or  at  best  of  a slave-owner;  the 
higher  or  human  qualities  are  left  out.  The  breeder  of  animals 
aims  chiefly  at  size  or  speed  or  strength;  in  a few  cases  at 
courage  or  temper;  most  often  the  fitness  of  the  animal  for 
food  is  the  great  desideratum.  But  mankind  are  not  bred  to 
be  eaten,  nor  yet  for  their  superiority  in  fighting  or  in  running 
or  in  drawing  carts.  Neither  does  the  improvement  of  the 
human  race  consist  merely  in  the  increase  of  the  bones  and 
flesh,  but  in  the  growth  and  enlightenment  of  the  mind.  Hence 
there  must  be  “ a marriage  of  true  minds  ” as  well  as  of  bodies, 
of  imagination  and  reason  as  well  as  of  lusts  and  instincts. 
Men  and  women  without  feeling  or  imagination  are  justly 
called  brutes;  yet  Plato  takes  away  these  qualities  and  puts 
nothing  in  their  place,  not  even  the  desire  of  a noble  offspring; 
since  parents  are  not  to  know  their  own  children.  The  most 
important  transaction  of  social  life,  he  who  is  the  idealist  philos- 


TRANSLATOR'S  INTRODUCTION 


xlvii 

Opher  converts  into  the  most  brutal.  For  the  pair  are  to  have 
no  relation  to  one  another,  except  at  the  hymeneal  festival; 
their  children  are  not  theirs,  but  the  State's;  nor  is  any  tie 
of  affection  to  unite  them.  Yet  here  the  analogy  of  the  animals 
might  have  saved  Plato  from  a gigantic  error,  if  he  had  “ not 
lost  sight  of  his  own  illustration  " (ii.  375  D).  For  the  nobler 
sort  of  birds  and  beasts  " (v.  459  A)  nourish  and  protect  their 
offspring  and  are  faithful  to  one  another. 

An  eminent  physiologist  thinks  it  worth  while  to  try  and 
place  life  on  a physical  basis."  But  should  not  life  rest  on  the 
moral  rather  than  upon  the  physical?  The  higher  comes  first, 
then  the  lower;  first  the  human  and  rational,  afterward  the 
animal.  Yet  they  are  not  absolutely  divided;  and  in  times  of 
sickness  or  moments  of  self-indulgence  they  seem  to  be  only 
different  aspects  of  a common  human  nature  which  includes 
them  both.  Neither  is  the  moral  the  limit  of  the  physical,  but 
the  expansion  and  enlargement  of  it=fhe  highest  form  which 
the  physical  is  capable  of  receivingi^As  Plato  would  say,  the 
body  does  not  take  care  of  the  body,  and  still  less  of  the  mind, 
but  the  mind  takes  care  of  both,  j In  all  human  action  not  that 
which  is  common  to  man  and  The  animals  is  the  characteristic 
element,  but  that  which  distinguishes  him  from  them.  Even 
if  we  admit  the  physical  basis,  and  resolve  all  virtue  into  health 
of  body — le  fagon  que  notre  sang  circule/'  still  on  merely 
physical  grounds  we  must  come  back  to  ideas.  Mind  and  rea- 
son and  duty  and  conscience,  under  these  or  other  names,  are 
always  reappearing.  There  cannot  be  health  of  body  with- 
out health  of  mind;  nor  health  of  mind  without  the  sense  of 
duty  and  the  love  of  truth  (cp.  ‘‘  Charm."  156  D,  E). 

That  the  greatest  of  ancient  philosophers  should  in  his  regu- 
lations about  marriage  have  fallen  into  the  error  of  separating 
body  and  mind,  does,  indeed,  appear  surprising.  Yet  the  won- 
der is  not  so  much  that  Plato  should  have  entertained  ideas  of 
morality  which  to  our  own  age  are  revolting,  but  that  he  should 
have  contradicted  himself  to  an  extent  which  is  hardly  credible, 
falling  in  an  instant  from  the  heaven  of  idealism  into  the 
crudest  animalism.  Rejoicing  in  the  newly  found  gift  of  re- 
flection, he  appears  to  have  thought  out  a subject  about  which 
he  had  better  have  followed  the  enlightened  feeling  of  his  own 
age.  The  general  sentiment  of  Hellas  was  opposed  to  his 


xlviii 


PLATO 


monstrous  fancy.  The  old  poets,  and  in  later  time  the  trage- 
dians, showed  no  want  of  respect  for  the  family,  on  which  much 
of  their  religion  was  based.  But  the  example  of  Sparta,  and 
perhaps  in  some  degree  the  tendency  to  defy  public  opinion, 
seem  to  have  misled  him.  He  will  make  one  family  out  of  all 
the  families  of  the  State.  He  will  select  the  finest  specimens 
of  men  and  women,  and  breed  from  these  only. 

Yet  because  the  illusion  is  always  returning  (for  the  animal 
part  of  human  nature  will  from  time  to  time  assert  itself  in 
the  disguise  of  philosophy  as  well  as  of  poetry),  and  also  be- 
cause any  departure  from  established  morality,  even  where  this 
is  not  intended,  is  apt  to  be  unsettling,  it  may  be  worth  while 
to  draw  out  a little  more  at  length  the  objections  to  the  Platonic 
marriage.  In  the  first  place,  history  shows  that  wherever 
polygamy  has  been  largely  allowed  the  race  has  deteriorated. 
One  man  to  one  woman  is  the  law  of  God  and  nature.  Nearly 
all  the  civilized  peoples  of  the  world  at  some  period  before  the 
age  of  written  records  have  become  monogamists;  and  the 
step  when  once  taken  has  never  been  retraced.  The  excep- 
tions occurring  among  Brahmins  or  Mahometans  or  the  ancient 
Persians,  are  of  that  sort  which  may  be  said  to  prove  the  rule. 
The  connections  formed  between  superior  and  inferior  races 
hardly  ever  produce  a noble  offspring,  because  they  are  licen- 
tious; and  because  the  children  in  such  cases  usually  despise 
the  mother,  and  are  neglected  by  the  father,  who  is  ashamed  of 
them.  Barbarous  nations  when  they  are  introduced  by  Euro- 
peans to  vice  die  out;  polygamist  peoples  either  import  and 
adopt  children  from  other  countries,  or  dwindle  in  numbers, 
or  both.  Dynasties  and  aristocracies  which  have  disregarded 
the  laws  of  nature  have  decreased  in  numbers  and  degenerated 
in  stature ; manages  de  convenance  leave  their  enfeebling  stamp 
on  the  offspring  of  them  (cp.  “ King  Lear,”  Act  i.  Sc.  2).  The 
marriage  of  near  relations,  or  the  marrying  in  and  in  of  the 
same  family,  tends  constantly  to  weakness  or  idiocy  in  the 
children,  sometimes  assuming  the  form  as  they  grow  older  of 
passionate  licentiousness.  The  common  prostitute  rarely  has 
any  offspring.  By  such  unmistakable  evidence  is  the  authority 
of  morality  asserted  in  the  relations  of  the  sexes : and  so  many 
more  elements  enter  into  this  mystery  ” than  are  dreamed  of 
by  Plato  and  some  other  philosophers. 


TRANSLATOR’S  INTRODUCTION 


xlix 


Recent  inquiries  have,  indeed,  arrived  at  the  conclusion  that 
among  primitive  tribes  there  existed  a community  of  wives  as 
of  property,  and  that  the  captive  taken  by  the  spear  was  the 
only  wife  or  slave  whom  any  man  was  permitted  to  call  his 
own.  The  partial  existence  of  such  customs  among  some  of 
the  lower  races  of  man,  and  the  survival  of  peculiar  ceremonies 
in  the  marriages  of  some  civilized  nations,  are  thought  to  fur- 
nish a proof  of  similar  institutions  having  been  once  universal. 
There  can  be  no  question  that  the  study  of  anthropology  has 
considerably  changed  our  views  respecting  the  first  appearance 
of  man  upon  the  earth.  We  know  more  about  the  aborigines 
of  the  world  than  formerly,  but  our  increasing  knowledge  shows 
above  all  things  how  little  we  know.  With  all  the  helps  which 
written  monuments  afford,  we  do  but  faintly  realize  the  con- 
dition of  man  2,000  or  3,000  years  ago.  Of  what  his  con- 
dition was  when  removed  to  a distance  200,000  or  300,000 
years,  when  the  majority  of  mankind  were  lower  and  nearer 
the  animals  than  any  tribe  now  existing  upon  the  earth, 
we  cannot  even  entertain  conjecture.  Plato  Laws  iii. 
676  foil.)  and  Aristotle  Metaph.’’  xi.  8,  §§  19,  20)  may 
have  been  more  right  than  we  imagine  in  supposing  that 
some  forms  of  civilization  were  discovered  and  lost  several 
times  over.  If  we  cannot  argue  that  all  barbarism  is  a de- 
graded civilization,  neither  can  we  set  any  limits  to  the  depth 
of  degradation  to  which  the  human  race  may  sink  through  war, 
disease,  or  isolation.  And  if  we  are  to  draw  inferences  about 
the  origin  of  marriage  from  the  practice  of  barbarous  nations, 
we  should  also  consider  the  remoter  analogy  of  the  animals. 
Many  birds  and  animals,  especially  the  carnivorous,  have  only 
one  mate,  and  the  love  and  care  of  offspring  which  seem  to  be 
natural  are  inconsistent  with  the  primitive  theory  of  marriage. 
If  we  go  back  to  an  imaginary  state  in  which  men  were  almost 
animals  and  the  companions  of  them,  we  have  as  much  right 
to  argue  from  what  is  animal  to  what  is  human  as  from  the  bar- 
barous to  the  civilized  man.  The  record  of  animal  life  on  the 
globe  is  fragmentary — ^the  connecting  links  are  wanting  and 
cannot  be  supplied ; the  record  of  social  life  is  still  more  frag- 
mentary and  precarious.  Even  if  we  admit  that  our  first  an- 
cestors had  no  such  institution  as  marriage,  still  the  stages  by 
which  men  passed  from  outer  barbarism  to  the  comparative 


1 


PLATO 


civilization  of  China,  Assyria,  and  Greece,  or  even  of  the  an- 
cient Germans,  are  wholly  unknown  to  us. 

Such  speculations  are  apt  to  be  unsettling,  because  they  seem 
to  show  that  an  institution  which  was  thought  to  be  a revelation 
from  heaven,  is  only  the  growth  of  history  and  experience. 
We  ask.  What  is  the  origin  of  marriage  ? and  we  are  told  that 
like  the  right  of  property,  after  many  wars  and  contests,  it  has 
gradually  arisen  out  of  the  selfishness  of  barbarians.  We 
stand  face  to  face  with  human  nature  in  its  primitive  nakedness. 
We  are  compelled  to  accept,  not  the  highest,  but  the  lowest  ac- 
count of  the  origin  of  human  society.  But  on  the  other  hand 
we  may  truly  say  that  every  step  in  human  progress  has  been 
in  the  same  direction,  and  that  in  the  course  of  ages  the  idea  of 
marriage  and  of  the  family  has  been  more  and  more  defined 
and  consecrated.  The  civilized  East  is  immeasurably  in  ad- 
vance of  any  savage  tribes;  the  Greeks  and  Romans  have  im- 
proved upon  the  East ; the  Christian  nations  have  been  stricter 
in  their  views  of  the  marriage  relation  than  any  of  the  ancients. 
In  this  as  in  so  many  other  things,  instead  of  looking  back  with 
regret  to  the  past,  we  should  look  forward  with  hope  to  the 
future.  We  must  consecrate  that  which  we  believe  to  be  the 
most  holy,  and  that  which  is  the  most  holy  will  be  the  most 
useful.’’  There  is  more  reason  for  maintaining  the  sacredness 
of  the  marriage  tie,  when  we  see  the  benefit  of  it,  than  when  we 
only  felt  a vague  religious  horror  about  the  violation  of  it. 
But  in  all  times  of  transition,  when  established  beliefs  are 
being  undermined,  there  is  a danger  that  in  the  passage  from 
the  old  to  the  new  we  may  insensibly  let  go  the  moral  principle, 
finding  an  excuse  for  listening  to  the  voice  of  passion  in  the 
uncertainty  of  knowledge,  or  the  fluctuations  of  opinion.  And 
there  are  many  persons  in  our  own  day  who,  enlightened  by 
the  study  of  anthropology,  and  fascinated  by  what  is  new  and 
strange,  some  using  the  language  of  fear,  others  of  hope,  are 
inclined  to  believe  that  a time  will  come  when  through  the  self- 
assertion  of  women,  or  the  rebellious  spirit  of  children,  by  the 
analysis  of  human  relations,  or  by  the  force  of  outward  cir- 
cumstances, the  ties  of  family  life  may  be  broken  or  greatly 
relaxed.  They  point  to  societies  in  America  and  elsewhere 
which  tend  to  show  that  the  destruction  of  the  family  need 
not  necessarily  involve  the  overthrow  of  all  morality.  What- 


TRANSLATOR’S  INTRODUCTION 


li 


ever  we  may  think  of  such  speculations,  we  can  hardly  deny 
that  they  have  been  more  rife  in  this  generation  than  in  any 
Other ; and  whither  they  are  tending  who  can  predict  ? 

To  the  doubts  and  queries  raised  by  these  ‘‘  social  reformers  ” 
respecting  the  relation  of  the  sexes  and  the  moral  nature  of 
man,  there  is  a sufficient  answer,  if  any  is  needed.  The  differ- 
ence between  them  and  us  is  really  one  of  fact.  They  are 
speaking  of  man  as  they  wish  or  fancy  him  to  be,  but  we  are 
speaking  of  him  as  he  is.  They  isolate  the  animal  part  of  his 
nature;  we  regard  him  as  a creature  having  many  sides,  or 
aspects,  moving  between  good  and  evil,  striving  to  rise  above 
himself  and  to  become  a little  lower  than  the  angels.’’  We 
also,  to  use  a Platonic  formula,  are  not  ignorant  of  the  dissatis- 
factions and  incompatibilities  of  family  life,  of  the  meannesses 
of  trade,  of  the  flatteries  of  one  class  of  society  by  another,  of 
the  impediments  which  the  family  throws  in  the  way  of  lofty 
aims  and  aspirations.  But  we  are  conscious  that  there  are 
evils  and  dangers  in  the  background  greater  still,  which  are 
not  appreciated,  because  they  are  either  concealed  or  suppressed. 
What  a condition  of  man  would  that  be,  in  which  human  pas- 
sions were  controlled  by  no  authority,  divine  or  human,  in 
which  there  was  no  shame  or  decency,  no  higher  affection  over- 
coming or  sanctifying  the  natural  instincts,  but  simply  a rule 
of  health ! Is  it  for  this  that  we  are  asked  to  throw  away  the 
civilization  which  is  the  growth  of  ages? 

For  strength  and  health  are  not  the  only  qualities  to  be  de- 
sired ; there  are  the  more  important  considerations  of  mind  and 
character  and  soul.  We  know  how  human  nature  may  be  de- 
graded ; we  do  not  know  how  by  artificial  means  any  improve- 
ment in  the  breed  can  be  effected.  The  problem  is  a complex 
one,  for  if  we  go  back  only  four  steps  (and  these  at  least  enter 
into  the  composition  of  a child),  there  are  commonly  thirty  pro- 
genitors to  be  taken  into  account.  Many  curious  facts,  rarely 
admitting  of  proof,  are  told  us  respecting  the  inheritance  of 
disease  or  character  from  a remote  ancestor.  We  can  trace  the 
physical  resemblances  of  parents  and  children  in  the  same 
family — 

Sic  oculos^  sic  Hie  manus^  sic  ora  ferebat  ” / 

but  scarcely  less  often  the  differences  which  distinguish  chil- 
dren both  from  their  parents  and  from  one  another.  We  are 


lii 


PLATO 


told  of  similar  mental  peculiarities  running  in  families,  and 
again  of  a tendency,  as  in  the  animals,  to  revert  to  a common 
or  original  stock.  But  we  have  a diflficulty  in  distinguishing 
what  is  a true  inheritance  of  genius  or  other  qualities,  and  what 
is  mere  imitation  or  the  result  of  similar  circumstances.  Great 
men  and  great  women  have  rarely  had  great  fathers  and 
mothers.  Nothing  that  we  know  of  in  the  circumstances  of 
their  birth  or  lineage  will  explain  their  appearance.  Of  the 
English  poets  of  the  last  and  two  preceding  centuries  scarcely 
a descendant  remains — none  have  ever  been  distinguished.  So 
deeply  has  nature  hidden  her  secret,  and  so  ridiculous  is  the 
fancy  which  has  been  entertained  by  some  that  we  might  in 
time  by  suitable  marriage  arrangements  or,  as  Plato  would 
have  said,  by  an  ingenious  system  of  lots,’’  produce  a Shake- 
speare or  a Milton.  Even  supposing  that  we  could  breed  men 
having  the  tenacity  of  bulldogs,  or,  like  the  Spartans,  “ lacking 
the  wit  to  run  away  in  battle,”  would  the  world  be  any  the  bet- 
ter? Many  of  the  noblest  specimens  of  the  human  race  have 
been  among  the  weakest  physically.  Tyrtaeus  or  ^sop,  or  our 
own  Newton,  would  have  been  exposed  at  Sparta;  and  some 
of  the  fairest  and  strongest  men  and  women  have  been  among 
the  wickedest  and  worst.  Not  by  the  Platonic  device  of  unit- 
ing the  strong  and  fair  with  the  strong  and  fair,  regardless 
of  sentiment  and  morality,  nor  yet  by  his  other  device  of  com- 
bining dissimilar  natures  (''Statesman”  310  A),  have  man- 
kind gradually  passed  from  the  brutality  and  licentiousness  of 
primitive  marriage  to  marriage  Christian  and  civilized. 

Few  persons  would  deny  that  we  bring  into  the  world  an 
inheritance  of  mental  and  physical  qualities  derived  first  from 
our  parents,  or  through  them  from  some  remoter  ancestor, 
secondly  from  our  race,  thirdly  from  the  general  condition  of 
mankind  into  which  we  are  born.  Nothing  is  commoner  than 
the  remark  that  " So-and-so  is  like  his  father  or  his  uncle  ” ; 
and  an  aged  person  may  not  unfrequently  note  a resemblance  in 
a youth  to  a long-forgotten  ancestor,  observing  that  " Nature 
sometimes  skips  a generation.”  It  may  be  true  also  that  if  we 
knew  more  about  our  ancestors,  these  similarities  would  be 
even  more  striking  to  us.  Admitting  the  facts  which  are  thus 
described  in  a popular  way,  we  may,  however,  remark  that 
there  is  no  method  of  difference  by  which  they  can  be  defined 


TRANSLATOR'S  INTRODUCTION 


liii 


or  estimated,  and  that  they  constitute  only  a small  part  of  each 
individual.  The  doctrine  of  heredity  may  seem  to  take  out  of 
our  hands  the  conduct  of  our  own  lives,  but  it  is  the  idea,  not 
the  fact,  which  is  really  terrible  to  us.  For  what  we  have  re- 
ceived from  our  ancestors  is  only  a fraction  of  what  we  are  or 
may  become.  The  knowledge  that  drunkenness  or  insanity  has 
been  prevalent  in  a family  may  be  the  best  safeguard  against 
their  recurrence  in  a future  generation.  The  parent  will  be 
most  awake  to  the  vices  or  diseases  in  his  child  of  which  he  is 
most  sensible  within  himself.  The  whole  of  life  may  be  di- 
rected to  their  prevention  or  cure.  The  traces  of  consumption 
may  become  fainter,  or  be  wholly  effaced : the  inherent  tendency 
to  vice  or  crime  may  be  eradicated.  And  so  heredity,  from 
being  a curse,  may  become  a blessing.  We  acknowledge  that 
in  the  matter  of  our  birth,  as  in  our  nature  generally,  there  are 
previous  circumstances  which  affect  us.  But  upon  this  plat- 
form of  circumstances  or  within  this  wall  of  necessity,  we  have 
still  the  power  of  creating  a life  for  ourselves  by  the  informing 
energy  of  the  human  will. 

There  is  another  aspect  of  the  marriage  question  to  which 
Plato  is  a stranger.  All  the  children  born  in  his  State  are 
foundlings.  It  never  occurred  to  him  that  the  greater  part  of 
them,  according  to  universal  experience,  would  have  perished. 
For  children  can  only  be  brought  up  in  families.  There  is  a 
subtle  sympathy  between  the  mother  and  the  child  which  can- 
not be  supplied  by  other  mothers,  or  by  ‘‘  strong  nurses  one  or 
more  ’’  Laws  vii.  789  E).  If  Plato’s  ''  pen  ” was  as  fatal 
as  the  creches  of  Paris,  or  the  foundling  hospital  of  Dublin, 
more  than  nine-tenths  of  his  children  would  have  perished. 
There  would  have  been  no  need  to  expose  or  put  out  of  the 
way  the  weaklier  children,  for  they  would  have  died  of  them- 
selves. So  emphatically  does  nature  protest  against  the  de- 
struction of  the  family. 

What  Plato  had  heard  or  seen  of  Sparta  was  applied  by  him 
in  a mistaken  way  to  his  ideal  commonwealth.  He  probably 
observed  that  both  the  Spartan  men  and  women  were  superior 
in  form  and  strength  to  the  other  Greeks ; and  this  superiority 
he  was  disposed  to  attribute  to  the  laws  and  customs  relating 
to  marriage.  He  did  not  consider  that  the  desire  of  a noble 

offspring  was  a passion  among  the  Spartans,  or  that  theif 

Classics.  Vol.  31 — 3 


liv 


PLATO 


physical  superiority  was  to  be  attributed  chiefly,  not  to  their 
marriage  customs,  but  to  their  temperance  and  training.  He 
did  not  reflect  that  Sparta  was  great,  not  in  consequence  of  the 
relaxation  of  morality,  but  in  spite  of  it,  by  virtue  of  a polit-' 
ical  principle  stronger  far  than  existed  in  any  other  Grecian 
State.  Least  of  all  did  he  observe  that  Sparta  did  not  really 
produce  the  finest  specimens  of  the  Greek  race.  The  genius, 
the  political  inspiration  of  Athens,  the  love  of  liberty — all  that 
has  made  Greece  famous  with  posterity,  were  wanting  among 
the  Spartans.  They  had  no  Themistocles,  or  Pericles,  or  Ms- 
chylus,  or  Sophocles,  or  Socrates,  or  Plato.  The  individual 
was  not  allowed  to  appear  above  the  State ; the  laws  were  fixed, 
and  he  had  no  business  to  alter  or  reform  them.  Yet  whence 
has  the  progress  of  cities  and  nations  arisen,  if  not  from  re- 
markable individuals,  coming  into  the  world  we  know  not  how, 
and  from  causes  over  which  we  have  no  control?  Something 
too  much  may  have  been  said  in  modern  times  of  the  value  of 
individuality.  But  we  can  hardly  condemn  too  strongly  a sys- 
tem which,  instead  of  fostering  the  scattered  seeds  or  sparks 
of  genius  and  character,  tends  to  smother  and  extinguish  them. 

Still,  while  condemning  Plato,  we  must  acknowledge  that 
neither  Christianity  nor  any  other  form  of  religion  and  society 
has  hitherto  been  able  to  cope  with  this  most  difficult  of  social 
problems,  and  that  the  side  from  which  Plato  regarded  it  is 
that  from  which  we  turn  away.  Population  is  the  most  un- 
tamable force  in  the  political  and  social  world.  Do  we  not  find, 
especially  in  large  cities,  that  the  greatest  hindrance  to  the 
amelioration  of  the  poor  is  their  improvidence  in  marriage? — 
a small  fault  truly,  if  not  involving  endless  consequences. 
There  are  whole  countries,  too,  such  as  India,  or,  nearer  home, 
Ireland,  in  which  a right  solution  of  the  marriage  question 
seems  to  lie  at  the  foundation  of  the  happiness  of  the  com- 
munity. There  are  too  many  people  on  a given  space,  or  they 
marry  too  early  and  bring  into  the  world  a sickly  and  half- 
developed  offspring;  or  owing  to  the  very  conditions  of  their 
existence,  they  become  emaciated  and  hand  on  a similar  life  to 
their  descendants.  But  who  can  oppose  the  voice  of  prudence 
to  the  ‘‘  mightiest  passions  of  mankind  ’’  Laws  ’’  viii.  835  C), 
especially  when  they  have  been  licensed  by  custom  and  re- 
ligion? In  addition  to  the  influences  of  education,  we  seem  to 


TRANSLATOR’S  INTRODUCTION 


Iv 


require  some  new  principles  of  right  and  wrong  in  these  mat' 
ters,  some  force  of  opinion,  which  may,  indeed,  be  already  heard 
whispering  in  private,  but  has  never  affected  the  moral  senti- 
ments of  mankind  in  general.  We  unavoidably  lose  sight  of 
the  principle  of  utility,  just  in  that  action  of  our  lives  in  which 
we  have  the  most  need  of  it.  The  influences  which  we  can 
bring  to  bear  upon  this  question  are  chiefly  indirect.  In  a gen- 
eration or  two,  education,  emigration,  improvements  in  agri- 
culture and  manufactures,  may  have  provided  the  solution. 
The  State  physician  hardly  likes  to  probe  the  wound : it  is  be- 
yond his  art;  a matter  which  he  cannot  safely  let  alone,  but 
which  he  dare  not  touch : 

“ We  do  but  skin  and  film  the  ulcerous  place,” 

When  again  in  private  life  we  see  a whole  family  one  by  one 
dropping  into  the  grave  under  the  Ate  of  some  inherited  malady, 
and  the  parents  perhaps  surviving  them,  do  our  minds  ever  go 
back  silently  to  that  day  twenty-five  or  thirty  years  before  on 
which  under  the  fairest  auspices,  amid  the  rejoicings  of  friends 
and  acquaintances,  a bride  and  bridegroom  joined  hands  with 
one  another  ? In  making  such  a reflection  we  are  not  opposing 
physical  considerations  to  moral,  but  moral  to  physical;  we 
are  seeking  to  make  the  voice  of  reason  heard,  which  drives  us 
back  from  the  extravagance  of  sentimentalism  on  common- 
sense.  The  late  Dr.  Combe  is  said  by  his  biographer  to  have 
resisted  the  temptation  to  marriage,  because  he  knew  that  he 
was  subject  to  hereditary  consumption.  One  who  deserved 
to  be  called  a man  of  genius,  a friend  of  my  youth,  was  in 
the  habit  of  wearing  a black  ribbon  on  his  wrist,  in  order  to 
remind  him  that,  being  liable  to  outbreaks  of  insanity,  he  must 
not  give  way  to  the  natural  impulses  of  affection:  he  died 
unmarried  in  a lunatic  asylum.  These  two  little  facts  suggest 
the  reflection  that  a very  few  persons  have  done  from  a sense 
of  duty  what  the  rest  of  mankind  ought  to  have  done  under 
like  circumstances,  if  they  had  allowed  themselves  to  think  of 
all  the  misery  which  they  were  about  ^‘to  bring  into  the  world. 
If  we  could  prevent  such  marriages  without  any  violation  of 
feeling  or  propriety,  we  clearly  ought ; and  the  prohibition  in 
the  course  of  time  would  be  protected  by  a horror  naturalis 
similar  to  that  which,  in  all  civilized  ages  and  countries,  has 


Ivi 


PLATO 


prevented  the  marriage  of  near  relations  by  blood.  Mankind 
,,  would  have  been  the  happier  if  some  things  which  are  now 
allowed  had  from  the  beginning  been  denied  to  them;  if  the 
sanction  of  religion  could  have  prohibited  practices  inimical  to 
health;  if  sanitary  principles  could  in  early  ages  have  been 
' invested  with  a superstitious  awe.  But,  living  as  we  do  far 
on  in  the  world’s  history,  we  are  no  longer  able  to  stamp  at 
once  with  the  impress  of  religion  a new  prohibition.  A free 
agent  cannot  have  his  fancies  regulated  by  law;  and  the 
execution  of  the  law  would  be  rendered  impossible,  owing  to 
the  uncertainty  of  the  cases  in  which  marriage  was  to  be  for- 
bidden. Who  can  weigh  virtue,  or  even  fortune,  against  health, 
or  moral  and  mental  qualities  against  bodily?  Who  can 
measure  probabilities  against  certainties  ? There  has  been 
some  good  as  well  as  evil  in  the  discipline  of  suffering ; and 
there  are  diseases,  such  as  consumption,  which  have  exercised 
a refining  and  softening  influence  on  the  character.  Youth  is 
too  inexperienced  to  balance  such  nice  considerations;  par- 
ents do  not  often  think  of  them,  or  think  of  them  too  late.  They 
are  at  a distance  and  may  probably  be  averted ; change  of  place, 
a new  state  of  life,  the  interests  of  a home  may  be  the  cure  of 
them.  So  persons  vainly  reason  when  their  minds  are  already 
made  up  and  their  fortunes  irrevocably  linked  together.  Nor 
is  there  any  ground  for  supposing  that  marriages  are  to  any 
great  extent  influenced  by  reflections  of  this  sort,  which  seem 
unable  to  make  any  head  against  the  irresistible  impulse  of 
individual  attachment. 

Lastly,  no  one  can  have  observed  the  first  rising  flood  of 
the  passions  in  youth,  the  difficulty  of  regulating  them,  and 
the  effects  on  the  whole  mind  and  nature  which  follow  from 
them,  the  stimulus  which  is  given  to  them  by  the  imagination, 
without  feeling  that  there  is  something  unsatisfactory  in  our 
method  of  treating  them.  That  the  most  important  influence 
on  human  life  should  be  wholly  left  to  chance  or  shrouded  in 
mystery,  and  instead  of  being  disciplined  or  understood  should 
be  required  to  conform  only  to  an  external  standard  of  propriety, 
cannot  be  regarded  by  the  philosopher  as  a safe  or  satisfac- 
tory condition  of  human  things.  And  still  those  who  have  the 
charge  of  youth  may  find  a way  by  watchfulness,  by  affec- 
tion, by  the  manliness  and  innocence  of  their  own  lives,  bj 


TRANSLATOR’S  INTRODUCTION 


Ivii 


occasional  hints,  by  general  admonitions  which  everyone  can 
apply  for  himself,  to  mitigate  this  terrible  evil  which  eats  out 
the  heart  of  individuals  and  corrupts  the  moral  sentiments  of 
nations.  In  no  duty  toward  others  is  there  more  need  of 
reticence  and  self-restraint.  So  great  is  the  danger  lest  he 
who  would  be  the  counsellor  of  another  should  reveal  the 
secret  prematurely,  lest  he  should  get  another  too  much  into 
his  power,  or  fix  the  passing  impression  of  evil  by  demanding 
the  confession  of  it. 

Nor  is  Plato  wrong  in  asserting  that  family  attachments  may 
interfere  with  higher  aims.  If  there  have  been  some  who  ‘‘  to 
party  gave  up  what  was  meant  for  mankind,’’  there  have  cer- 
tainly been  others  who  to  family  gave  up  what  was  meant  for 
mankind  or  for  their  country.  The  cares  of  children,  the 
necessity  of  procuring  money  for  their  support,  the  flatteries 
of  the  rich  by  the  poor,  the  exclusiveness  of  caste,  the  pride 
of  birth  or  wealth,  the  tendency  of  family  life  to  divert  men 
from  the  pursuit  of  the  ideal  or  the  heroic,  are  as  lowering  in 
our  own  age  as  in  that  of  Plato.  And  if  we  prefer  to  look 
at  the  gentle  influences  of  home,  the  development  of  the  affec- 
tions, the  amenities  of  society,  the  devotion  of  one  member  of 
a family  to  the  good  of  the  others,  which  form  one  side  of 
the  picture,  we  must  not  quarrel  with  him,  or  perhaps  ought 
rather  to  be  grateful  to  him,  for  having  presented  to  us  the  re- 
verse. Without  attempting  to  defend  Plato  on  grounds  of 
morality,  we  may  allow  that  there  is  an  aspect  of  the  world 
which  has  not  unnaturally  led  him  into  error. 

We  hardly  appreciate  the  power  which  the  idea  of  the  State, 
like  all  other  abstract  ideas,  exercised  over  the  mind  of  Plato. 
To  us  the  State  seems  to  be  built  up  out  of  the  family,  or 
sometimes  to  be  the  framework  in  which  family  and  social  life 
is  contained.  But  to  Plato  in  his  present  mood  of  mind  the 
family  is  only  a disturbing  influence  which,  instead  of  filling 
up,  tends  to  disarrange  the  higher  unity  of  the  State.  No 
organization  is  needed  except  a political,  which,  regarded  from 
another  point  of  view,  is  a military  one.  The  State  is  all-suf- 
ficing for  the  wants  of  man,  and,  like  the  idea  of  the  Church 
in  later  ages,  absorbs  all  other  desires  and  affections.  In  time 
of  war  the  thousand  citizens  are  to  stand  like  a rampart  im- 
pregnable against  the  world  or  the  Persian  host;  in  time  of 


Iviii 


PLATO 


peace  the  preparation  for  war  and  their  duties  to  the  State, 
which  are  also  their  duties  to  one  another,  take  up  their  whole 
life  and  time.  The  only  other  interest  which  is  allowed  to 
them  besides  that  of  war  is  the  interest  of  philosophy.  When 
they  are  too  old  to  be  soldiers  they  are  to  retire  from  active 
life  and  to  have  a second  novitiate  of  study  and  contemplation. 
There  is  an  element  of  monasticism  even  in  Plato’s  com- 
munism. If  he  could  have  done  without  children,  he  might 
have  converted  his  republic  into  a religious  order.  Neither  in 
the  Laws  ” (v.  739  B),  when  the  daylight  of  common-sense 
breaks  in  upon  him,  does  he  retract  his  error.  In  the  State 
of  which  he  would  be  the  founder,  there  is  no  marrying  or 
giving  in  marriage : but  because  of  the  infirmity  of  mankind, 
he  condescends  to  allow  the  law  of  nature  to  prevail. 

(7)  But  Plato  has  an  equal,  or,  in  his  own  estimation,  even 
greater  paradox  in  reserve,  which  is  summed  up  in  the  famous 
text,  ‘‘  Until  kings  are  philosophers  or  philosophers  are  kings, 
cities  will  never  cease  from  ill.”  And  by  philosophers  he  ex- 
plains himself  to  mean  those  who  are  capable  of  apprehend- 
ing ideas,  especially  the  idea  of  good.  To  the  attainment  of 
this  higher  knowledge  the  second  education  is  directed. 
Through  a process  of  training  which  has  already  made  them 
good  citizens  they  are  now  to  be  made  good  legislators.  We 
find  with  some  surprise  (not  unlike  the  feeling  which  Aristotle 
in  a well-known  passage  describes  the  hearers  of  Plato’s  lect- 
ures as  experiencing,  when  they  went  to  a discourse  on  the 
idea  of  good,  expecting  to  be  instructed  in  moral  truths,  and 
received  instead  of  them  arithmetical  and  mathematical  for- 
mulae) that  Plato  does  not  propose  for  his  future  legislators 
any  study  of  finance  or  law  or  military  tactics,  but  only  of 
abstract  mathematics,  as  a preparation  for  the  still  more  ab- 
stract conception  of  good.  We  ask,  with  Aristotle,  What  is 
the  use  of  a man  knowing  the  idea  of  good,  if  he  does  not 
know  what  is  good  for  this  individual,  this  State,  this  condi- 
tion of  society?  We  cannot  understand  how  Plato’s  legisla- 
tors or  guardians  are  to  be  fitted  for  their  work  of  statesmen 
by  the  study  of  the  five  mathematical  sciences.  We  vainly 
search  in  Plato’s  own  writings  for  any  explanation  of  this 
seeming  absurdity. 

The  discovery  of  a great  metaphysical  conception  seems  to 


TRANSLATOR’S  INTRODUCTION 


lix 


ravish  the  mind  with  a prophetic  consciousness  which  takes 
away  the  power  of  estimating  its  value.  No  metaphysical  in- 
quirer has  ever  fairly  criticised  his  own  speculations;  in  his 
own  judgment  they  have  been  above  criticism;  nor  has  he 
understood  that  what  to  him  seemed  to  be  absolute  truth  may 
reappear  in  the  next  generation  as  a form  of  logic  or  an  in- 
strument of  thought.  And  posterity  have  also  sometimes 
equally  misapprehended  the  real  value  of  his  speculations. 
They  appear  to  them  to  have  contributed  nothing  to  the  stock 
of  human  knowledge.  The  idea  of  good  is  apt  to  be  regarded 
by  the  modern  thinker  as  an  unmeaning  abstraction;  but  he 
forgets  that  this  abstraction  is  waiting  ready  for  use,  and 
will  hereafter  be  filled  up  by  the  divisions  of  knowledge. 
When  mankind  do  not  as  yet  know  that  the  world  is  subject 
to  law,  the  introduction  of  the  mere  conception  of  law  or  de- 
sign or  final  cause,  and  the  far-off  anticipation  of  the  harmony 
of  knowledge,  are  great  steps  onward.  Even  the  crude  gen- 
eralization of  the  unity  of  all  things  leads  men  to  view  the 
world  with  different  eyes,  and  may  easily  affect  their  con- 
ception of  human  life  and  of  politics,  and  also  their  own  con- 
duct and  character  Tim.’’  90  A).  We  can  imagine  how 
a great  mind  like  that  of  Pericles  might  derive  elevation  from 
his  intercourse  with  Anaxagoras  Phsedr.”  270  A).  To  be 
struggling  toward  a higher  but  unattainable  conception  is  a 
more  favorable  intellectual  condition  than  to  rest  satisfied  in 
a narrow  portion  of  ascertained  fact.  And  the  earlier,  which 
have  sometimes  been  the  greater  ideas  of  science,  are  often 
lost  sight  of  at  a later  period.  How  rarely  can  we  say  of 
any  modern  inquirer,  in  the  magnificent  language  of  Plato, 
that  He  is  the  spectator  of  all  time  and  of  all  existence ! ” 
Nor  is  there  anything  unnatural  in  the  hasty  application 
of  these  vast  metaphysical  conceptions  to  practical  and  polit- 
ical life.  In  the  first  enthusiasm  of  ideas  men  are  apt  to  see 
them  everywhere,  and  to  apply  them  in  the  most  remote 
sphere.  They  do  not  understand  that  the  experience  of  ages 
is  required  to  enable  them  to  fill  up  ‘‘  the  intermediate  axioms.” 
Plato  himself  seems  to  have  imagined  that  the  truths  of  psy- 
chology, like  those  of  astronomy  and  harmonics,  would  be 
arrived  at  by  a process  of  deduction,  and  that  the  method 
which  he  has  pursued  in  the  fourth  book,  of  inferring  them 


lx 


PLATO 


from  experience  and  the  use  of  language,  was  imperfect  and 
only  provisional.  But  when,  after  having  arrived  at  the  idea 
of  good,  which  is  the  end  of  the  science  of  dialectic,  he  is 
asked.  What  is  the  nature,  and  what  are  the  divisions  of  the 
science?  he  refuses  to  answer,  as  if  intending  by  the  refusal 
to  intimate  that  the  state  of  knowledge  which  then  existed 
was  not  such  as  would  allow  the  philosopher  to  enter  into 
his  final  rest.  The  previous  sciences  must  first  be  studied, 
and  will,  we  may  add,  continue  to  be  studied  till  the  end  of 
time,  although  in  a sense  different  from  any  which  Plato 
could  have  conceived.  But  we  may  observe,  that  while  he 
is  aware  of  the  vacancy  of  his  own  ideal,  he  is  full  of  enthu- 
siasm in  the  contemplation  of  it.  Looking  into  the  orb  of 
light,  he  sees  nothing,  but  he  is  warmed  and  elevated.  The 
Hebrew  prophet  believed  that  faith  in  God  would  enable  him 
to  govern  the  world ; the  Greek  philosopher  imagined  that 
contemplation  of  the  good  would  make  a legislator.  There 
is  as  much  to  be  filled  up  in  the  one  case  as  in  the  other,  and 
the  one  mode  of  conception  is  to  the  Israelite  what  the  other 
is  to  the  Greek.  Both  find  a repose  in  a divine  perfection, 
which,  whether  in  a more  personal  or  impersonal  form,  exists 
without  them  and  independently  of  them,  as  well  as  within 
them. 

There  is  no  mention  of  the  idea  of  good  in  the  Timaeus,’^ 
nor  of  the  divine  Creator  of  the  world  in  the  Republic  ; 
and  we  are  naturally  led  to  ask  in  what  relation  they  stand 
to  one  another.  Is  God  above  or  below  the  idea  of  good?  or 
is  the  Idea  of  Good  another  mode  of  conceiving  God?  The 
latter  appears  to  be  the  truer  answer.  To  the  Greek  philos- 
opher the  perfection  and  unity  of  God  was  a far  higher  con- 
ception than  his  personality,  which  he  hardly  found  a word 
to  express,  and  which  to  him  would  have  seemed  to  be  bor- 
rowed from  mythology.  To  the  Christian,  on  the  other  hand, 
or  to  the  modern  thinker  in  general,  it  is  difficult,  if  not  im- 
possible, to  attach  reality  to  what  he  terms  mere  abstraction; 
while  to  Plato  this  very  abstraction  is  the  truest  and  most 
real  of  all  things.  Hence,  from  a difference  in  forms  of 
thought,  Plato  appears  to  be  resting  on  a creation  of  his  own 
mind  only.  But  if  we  may  be  allowed  to  paraphrase  the  idea 
of  good  by  the  words  ‘‘  intelligent  principle  of  law  and  order 


TRANSLATOR’S  INTRODUCTION 


Ixi 


- 1 

I 


in  the  universe,  embracing  equally  man  and  nature,’’  we  be- 
gin to  find  a meeting-point  between  him  and  ourselves. 

I The  question  whether  the  ruler  or  statesman  should  be  a 
philosopher  is  one  that  has  not  lost  interest  in  modern  times. 
In  most  countries  of  Europe  and  Asia  there  has  been  someone 
in  the  course  of  ages  who  has  truly  united  the  power  of  com- 
mand with  the  power  of  thought  and  reflection,  as  there  have 
been  also  many  false  combinations  of  these  qualities.  Some 
kind  of  speculative  power  is  necessary  both  in  practical  and 
political  life ; like  the  rhetorician  in  the  “ Phaedrus,”  men  re- 
quire to  have  a conception  of  the  varieties  of  human  character, 
and  to  be  raised  on  great  occasions  above  the  commonplaces  of 
ordinary  life.  Yet  the  idea  of  the  philosopher-statesman  has 
never  been  popular  with  the  mass  of  mankind ; partly  because 
he  cannot  take  the  world  into  his  confidence  or  make  them 
understand  the  motives  from  which  he  acts,  and  also  because 
they  are  jealous  of  a power  which  they  do  not  understand.  The 
revolution  which  human  nature  desires  to  effect  :'tep  by  step  in 
many  ages  is  likely  to  be  precipitated  by  him  in  a single  year 
or  life.  They  are  afraid  that  in  the  pursuit  of  his  greater  aims 
he  may  disregard  the  common  feelings  of  humanity.  He  is  too 
apt  to  be  looking  into  the  distant  future  or  back  into  the  remote 
past,  and  unable  to  see  actions  or  events  which,  to  use  an  ex- 
pression of  Plato’s,  are  tumbling  out  at  his  feet.”  Besides, 
as  Plato  would  say,  there  are  other  corruptions  of  these  philo- 
sophical statesmen.  Either  the  native  hue  of  resolution  is 
sickbed  o’er  with  the  pale  cast  of  thought,”  and  at  the  moment 
when  action  above  all  things  is  required  he  is  undecided,  or  gen- 
t eral  principles  are  enunciated  by  him  in  order  to  cover  some 
change  of  policy ; or  his  ignorance  of  the  world  has  made  him 
more  easily  fall  a prey  to  the  arts  of  others ; or  in  some  cases  he 
has  been  converted  into  a courtier,  who  enjoys  the  luxury  of 
holding  liberal  opinions,  but  was  never  known  to  perform  a lib- 
eral action.  No  wonder  that  mankind  have  been  in  the  habit  of 
calling  statesmen  of  this  class  pedants,  sophisters,  doctrinaires, 
visionaries.  For,  as  we  may  be  allowed  to  say,  a little  parody- 
ing the  words  of  Plato,  they  have  seen  bad  imitations  of  the 
philosopher-statesman.”  But  a man  in  whom  the  powers  of 
thought  and  action  are  perfectly  balanced,  equal  to  the  present, 
reaching  forward  to  the  future,  such  a one,”  ruling  in  a con- 
stitutional State,  they  have  never  seen.” 


Ixii 


PLATO 


But  as  the  philosopher  is  apt  to  fail  in  the  routine  of  political 
life,  so  the  ordinary  statesman  is  also  apt  to  fail  in  extraordinary 
crises.  When  the  face  of  the  world  is  beginning  to  alter,  and 
thunder  is  heard  in  the  distance,  he  is  still  guided  by  his  old 
maxims,  and  is  the  slave  of  his  inveterate  party  prejudices;  he 
cannot  perceive  the  signs  of  the  times ; instead  of  looking  for- 
ward he  looks  back;  he  learns  nothing  and  forgets  nothing; 
with  **  wise  saws  and  modern  instances  ’’  he  would  stem  the 
rising  tide  of  revolution.  He  lives  more  and  more  within  the 
circle  of  his  own  party,  as  the  world  without  him  becomes 
stronger.  This  seems  to  be  the  reason  why  the  old  order  of 
things  makes  so  poor  a figure  when  confronted  with  the  new, 
why  churches  can  never  reform,  why  most  political  changes 
are  made  blindly  and  convulsively.  The  great  crises  in  the 
history  of  nations  have  often  been  met  by  an  ecclesiastical  posi- 
tiveness, and  a more  obstinate  reassertion  of  principles,  which 
have  lost  their  hold  upon  a nation.  The  fixed  ideas  of  a reac- 
tionary statesman  may  be  compared  to  madness;  they  grow 
upon  him,  and  he  becomes  possessed  by  them;  no  judgment  of 
others  is  ever  admitted  by  him  to  be  weighed  in  the  balance 
against  his  own. 

( S ) Plato,  laboring  under  what  to  modern  readers  appears 
to  have  been  a confusion  of  ideas,  assimilates  the  State  to  the 
individual,  and  fails  to  distinguish  ethics  from  politics.  He 
thinks  that  to  be  most  of  a State  which  is  most  like  one  man, 
and  in  which  the  citizens  have  the  greatest  uniformity  of  char- 
acter. He  does  not  see  that  the  analogy  is  partly  fallacious, 
and  that  the  will  or  character  of  a State  or  nation  is  really  the 
balance  or  rather  the  surplus  of  individual  wills,  which  are 
limited  by  the  condition  of  having  to  act  in  common.  The 
movement  of  a body  of  men  can  never  have  the  pliancy  or  facil- 
ity of  a single  man ; the  freedom  of  the  individual,  which  is  al- 
ways limited,  becomes  still  more  straitened  when  transferred 
to  a nation.  The  powers  of  action  and  feeling  are  necessarily 
weaker  and  more  balanced  when  they  are  diffused  through  a 
community;  whence  arises  the  often-discussed  question,  Can 
a nation,  like  an  individual,  have  a conscience?  ’’  We  hesitate 
to  say  that  the  characters  of  nations  are  nothing  more  than  the 
sum  of  the  characters  of  the  individuals  who  compose  them ; 
because  there  may  be  tendencies  in  individuals  which  react  upon 


TRANSLATOR'S  INTRODUCTION 


Ixiii 


one  another.  A whole  nation  may  be  wiser  than  any  one  man 
in  it ; or  may  be  animated  by  some  common  opinion  or  feeling 
which  could  not  equally  have  affected  the  mind  of  a single  per- 
son, or  may  have  been  inspired  by  a leader  of  genius  to  perform 
acts  more  than  human.  Plato  does  not  appear  to  have  analyzed 
the  complications  which  arise  out  of  the  collective  action  of 
mankind.  Neither  is  he  capable  of  seeing  that  analogies, 
though  specious  as  arguments,  may  often  have  no  foundation 
in  fact,  or  of  distinguishing  between  what  is  intelligible  or  viv- 
idly present  to  the  mind,  and  what  is  true.  In  this  respect  he 
is  far  below  Aristotle,  who  is  comparatively  seldom  imposed 
upon  by  false  analogies.  He  cannot  disentangle  the  arts  from 
the  virtues — at  least  he  is  always  arguing  from  one  to  the  other. 
His  notion  of  music  is  transferred  from  harmony  of  sounds  to 
harmony  of  life:  in  this  he  is  assisted  by  the  ambiguities  of 
language  as  well  as  by  the  prevalence  of  Pythagorean  notions. 
And  having  once  assimilated  the  State  to  the  individual,  he  im- 
agines that  he  will  find  the  succession  of  States  paralleled  in  the 
lives  of  the  individuals. 

Still,  through  this  fallacious  medium,  a real  enlargement  of 
ideas  is  attained.  When  the  virtues  as  yet  presented  no  dis- 
tinct conception  to  the  mind,  a great  advance  was  made  by  the 
comparison  of  them  with  the  arts ; for  virtue  is  partly  art,  and 
has  an  outward  form  as  well  as  an  inward  principle.  The  har- 
mony of  music  affords  a lively  image  of  the  harmonies  of  the 
world  and  of  human  life,  and  may  be  regarded  as  a splendid 
illustration  which  was  naturally  mistaken  for  a real  analogy. 
In  the  same  way  the  identification  of  ethics  with  politics  has  a 
tendency  to  give  definiteness  to  ethics,  and  also  to  elevate  and 
ennoble  men’s  notions  of  the  aims  of  government  and  of  the 
duties  of  citizens ; for  ethics  from  one  point  of  view  may  be 
conceived  as  an  idealized  law  and  politics ; and  politics,  as  ethics 
reduced  to  the  conditions  of  human  society.  There  have  been 
evils  which  have  arisen  out  of  the  attempt  to  identify  them,  and 
this  has  led  to  the  separation  or  antagonism  of  them,  which  has 
been  introduced  by  modern  political  writers.  But  we  may  like- 
wise feel  that  something  has  been  lost  in  their  separation,  and 
that  the  ancient  philosophers  who  estimated  the  moral  and  in- 
tellectual well-being  of  mankind  first,  and  the  wealth  of  nations 
and  individuals  second,  may  have  a salutary  influence  on  the 


Ixiv 


PLATO 


speculations  of  modern  times.  Many  political  maxims  origi- 
nate in  a reaction  against  an  opposite  error ; and  when  the  errors 
against  which  they  were  directed  have  passed  away,  they  in  turn 
become  errors. 

III.  Plato’s  views  of  education  are  in  several  respects  re- 
markable ; like  the  rest  of  the  “ Republic,”  they  are  partly  Greek 
and  partly  ideal,  beginning  with  the  ordinary  curriculum  of  the 
Greek  youth,  and  extending  to  after-life.  Plato  is  the  first 
writer  who  distinctly  says  that  education  is  to  comprehend  the 
whole  of  life,  and  to  be  a preparation  for  another  in  which  edu- 
cation begins  again  (vi.  498  D).  This  is  the  continuous  thread 
which  runs  through  the  Republic,”  and  which  more  than  any 
other  of  his  ideas  admits  of  an  application  to  modern  life. 

He  has  long  given  up  the  notion  that  virtue  cannot  be  taught ; 
and  he  is  disposed  to  modify  the  thesis  of  the  “ Protagoras,” 
that  the  virtues  are  one,  and  not  many.  He  is  not  unwilling  to 
admit  the  sensible  world  into  his  scheme  of  truth.  Nor  does 
he  assert  in  the  “ Republic  ” the  involuntariness  of  vice,  which 
is  maintained  by  him  in  the  ‘‘  Timaeus,”  ‘‘  Sophist,”  and 
‘‘Laws”  (cp.  “Protag.”  345  foil.,  352,  355;  “ Apol.”  25  E; 
“ Gorg.”  468,  509  E).  Nor  do  the  so-called  Platonic  ideas  re- 
covered from  a former  state  of  existence  affect  his  theory  of 
mental  improvement.  Still  we  observe  in  him  the  remains  of 
the  old  Socratic  doctrine,  that  true  knowledge  must  be  elicited 
from  within,  and  is  to  be  sought  for  in  ideas,  not  in  particulars 
of  sense.  Education,  as  he  says,  will  implant  a principle  of 
intelligence  which  is  better  than  10,000  eyes.  The  paradox 
that  the  virtues  are  one,  and  the  kindred  notion  that  all  virtue 
is  knowledge,  are  not  entirely  renounced;  the  first  is  seen  in 
the  supremacy  given  to  justice  over  the  rest;  the  second  in  the 
tendency  to  absorb  the  moral  virtues  in  the  intellectual,  and  to 
centre  all  goodness  in  the  contemplation  of  the  idea  of  good. 
The  world  of  sense  is  still  depreciated  and  identified  with  opin- 
ion, though  admitted  to  be  a shadow  of  the  true.  In  the  “ Re- 
public ” he  is  evidently  impressed  with  the  conviction  that  vice 
arises  chiefly  from  ignorance  and  may  be  cured  by  education ; 
the  multitude  are  hardly  to  be  deemed  responsible  for  what 
they  do  (v.  499  E).  A faint  allusion  to  the  doctrine  of  remin- 
iscence occurs  in  the  tenth  book  (621  A)  ; but  Plato’s  views  of 


TRANSLATOR’S  INTRODUCTION 


Ixv 


education  have  no  more  real  connection  with  a previous  state 
of  existence  than  our  own ; he  only  proposes  to  elicit  from  the 
mind  that  which  is  there  already.  Education  is  represented  by 
him,  not  as  the  filling  of  a vessel,  but  as  the  turning  the  eye  of 
the  soul  toward  the  light. 

He  treats  first  of  music  or  literature,  which  he  divides  into 
true  and  false,  and  then  goes  on  to  gymnastics ; of  infancy  in 
the  ‘‘  Republic  he  takes  no  notice,  though  in  the  ‘‘  Laws  ” he 
gives  sage  counsels  about  the  nursing  of  children  and  the  man- 
agement of  the  mothers,  and  would  have  an  education  which 
is  even  prior  to  birth.  But  in  the  ‘‘  Republic  ” he  begins  with 
the  age  at  which  the  child  is  capable  of  receiving  ideas,  and 
boldly  asserts,  in  language  which  sounds  paradoxical  to  modern 
ears,  that  he  must  be  taught  the  false  before  he  can  learn  the 
true.  The  modern  and  ancient  philosophical  world  are  not 
agreed  about  truth  and  falsehood;  the  one  identifies  truth  al- 
most exclusively  with  fact,  the  other  with  ideas.  This  is  the 
difference  between  ourselves  and  Plato,  which  is,  however, 
partly  a difference  of  words  (cp.  supra,  p.  xxxviii).  For  we 
too  should  admit  that  a child  must  receive  many  lessons  which 
he  imperfectly  understands ; he  must  be  taught  some  things  in 
a figure  only,  some,  too,  which  he  can  hardly  be  expected  to  be- 
lieve when  he  grows  older ; but  we  should  limit  the  use  of  fiction 
by  the  necessity  of  the  case.  Plato  would  draw  the  line  differ- 
ently ; according  to  him  the  aim  of  early  education  is  not  truth 
as  a matter  of  fact,  but  truth  as  a matter  of  principle ; the  child 
is  to  be  taught  first  simple  religious  truths,  and  then  sim- 
ple moral  truths,  and  insensibly  to  learn  the  lesson  of  good 
manners  and  good  taste.  He  would  make  an  entire  refor- 
mation of  the  old  mythology;  like  Xenophanes  and  Hera- 
cleitus  he  is  sensible  of  the  deep  chasm  which  separates  his 
own  age  from  Homer  and  Hesiod,  whom  he  quotes  and  in- 
vests with  an  imaginary  authority,  but  only  for  his  own  pur- 
poses. The  lusts  and  treacheries  of  the  gods  are  to  be  ban- 
ished ; the  terrors  of  the  world  below  are  to  be  dispelled ; the 
misbehavior  of  the  Homeric  heroes  is  not  to  be  a model  for 
youth.  But  there  is  another  strain  heard  in  Homer  which  may 
teach  our  youth  endurance ; and  something  may  be  learned  in 
medicine  from  the  simple  practice  of  the  Homeric  age.  The 
principles  on  which  religion  is  to  be  based  are  two  only : first, 


Ixvi 


PLATO 


that  God  is  true ; secondly,  that  he  is  good.  Modern  and  Chris- 
tian writers  have  often  fallen  short  of  these;  they  can  hardly 
be  said  to  have  gone  beyond  them. 

The  young  are  to  be  brought  up  in  happy  surroundings,  out 
of  the  way  of  sights  or  sounds  which  may  hurt  the  character 
or  vitiate  the  taste.  They  are  to  live  in  an  atmosphere  of  health ; 
the  breeze  is  always  to  be  wafting  to  them  the  impressions  of 
truth  and  goodness.  Could  such  an  education  be  realized,  or  if 
our  modern  religious  education  could  be  bound  up  with  truth 
and  virtue  and  good  manners  and  good  taste,  that  would  be  the 
best  hope  of  human  improvement.  Plato,  like  ourselves,  is 
looking  forward  to  changes  in  the  moral  and  religious  world, 
and  is  preparing  for  them.  He  recognizes  the  danger  of  un- 
settling young  men’s  minds  by  sudden  changes  of  laws  and 
principles,  by  destroying  the  sacredness  of  one  set  of  ideas  when 
there  is  nothing  else  to  take  their  place.  He  is  afraid,  too,  of 
the  influence  of  the  drama,  on  the  ground  that  it  encourages 
false  sentiment,  and  therefore  he  would  not  have  his  children 
taken  to  the  theatre ; he  thinks  that  the  effect  on  the  spectators 
is  bad,  and  on  the  actors  still  worse.  His  idea  of  education  is 
that  of  harmonious  growth,  in  which  are  insensibly  learned 
the  lessons  of  temperance  and  endurance,  and  the  body  and 
mind  develop  in  equal  proportions.  The  first  principle  which 
runs  through  all  art  and  nature  is  simplicity ; this  also  is  to  be 
the  rule  of  human  life. 

The  second  stage  of  education  is  gymnastics,  which  answers 
to  the  period  of  muscular  growth  and  development.  The  sim- 
plicity which  is  enforced  in  music  is  extended  to  gymnastics; 
Plato  is  aware  that  the  training  of  the  body  may  be  inconsistent 
with  the  training  of  the  mind,  and  that  bodily  exercise  may  be 
easily  overdone.  Excessive  training  of  the  body  is  apt  to  give 
men  a headache  or  to  render  them  sleepy  at  a lecture  on  philoso- 
phy, and  this  they  attribute  not  to  the  true  cause,  but  to  the 
nature  of  the  subject.  Two  points  are  noticeable  in  Plato’s 
treatment  of  gymnastics : First,  that  the  time  of  training  is  en- 
tirely separated  from  the  time  of  literary  education.  He  seems 
to  have  thought  that  two  things  of  an  opposite  and  different 
nature  could  not  be  learned  at  the  same  time.  Here  we  can 
hardly  agree  with  him ; and,  if  we  may  judge  by  experience, 
the  effect  of  spending  three  years  between  the  ages  of  fourteen 


TRANSLATOR’S  INTRODUCTION 


Ixvii 


and  seventeen  in  mere  bodily  exercise  would  be  far  from  im- 
proving to  the  intellect.  Secondly,  he  affirms  that  music  and 
gymnastics  are  not,  as  common  opinion  is  apt  to  imagine,  in- 
tended, the  one  for  the  cultivation  of  the  mind  and  the  other  of 
the  body,  but  that  they  are  both  equally  designed  for  the  im- 
provement of  the  mind.  The  body,  in  his  view,  is  the  servant 
of  the  mind ; the  subjection  of  the  lower  to  the  higher  is  for  the 
advantage  of  both.  And  doubtless  the  mind  may  exercise  a very 
great  and  paramount  influence  over  the  body,  if  exerted  not  at 
particular  moments  and  by  fits  and  starts,  but  continuously,  in 
making  preparation  for  the  whole  of  life.  Other  Greek  writers 
saw  the  mischievous  tendency  of  Spartan  discipline  (Arist. 
“ Pol.’'  viii.  4,  § I foil. ; Thuc.  ii.  37,  39).  But  only  Plato  rec- 
ognized the  fundamental  error  on  which  the  practice  was  based. 

The  subject  of  gymnastics  leads  Plato  to  the  sister-subject 
of  medicine,  which  he  further  illustrates  by  the  parallel  of  law. 
The  modern  disbelief  in  medicine  has  led  in  this,  as  in  some 
other  departments  of  knowledge,  to  a demand  for  greater  sim- 
plicity; physicians  are  becoming  aware  that  they  often  make 
diseases  greater  and  more  complicated  ” by  their  treatment  of 
them  Rep.”  iv.  426  A).  In  2,000  years  their  art  has  made 
but  slender  progress;  what  they  have  gained  in  the  analysis 
of  the  parts  is  in  a great  degree  lost  by  their  feebler  conception 
of  the  human  frame  as  a whole.  They  have  attended  more  to 
the  cure  of  diseases  than  to  the  conditions  of  health ; and  the 
improvements  in  medicine  have  been  more  than  counterbal- 
anced by  the  disuse  of  regular  training.  Until  lately  they  have 
hardly  thought  of  air  and  water,  the  importance  of  which  was 
well  understood  by  the  ancients ; as  Aristotle  remarks,  “ Air 
and  water,  being  the  elements  which  we  most  use,  have  the 
greatest  effect  upon  health  ” Polit.”  vii.  ii,  § 4).  For  ages 
physicians  have  been  under  the  dominion  of  prejudices  which 
have  only  recently  given  way ; and  now  there  are  as  many  opin- 
ions in  medicine  as  in  theology,  and  an  equal  degree  of  scepti- 
cism and  some  want  of  toleration  about  both.  Plato  has  several 
good  notions  about  medicine ; according  to  him,  ‘‘  the  eye  can- 
not be  cured  without  the  rest  of  the  body,  nor  the  body  without 
the  mind”  (‘‘Charm.”  156  E).  No  man  of  sense,  he  says  in 
the  “ Timseus,”  would  take  physic ; and  we  heartily  sympathize 
with  him  in  the  “ Laws  ” when  he  declares  that  “ the  limbs  of  the 


Ixviii 


PLATO 


rustic  worn  with  toil  will  derive  more  benefit  from  warm  baths 
than  from  the  prescriptions  of  a not  over  wise  doctor  (vi. 
761  C).  But  we  can  hardly  praise  him  when,  in  obedience  to 
the  authority  of  Homer,  he  depreciates  diet,  or  approves  of  the 
inhuman  spirit  in  which  he  would  get  rid  of  invalid  and  useless 
lives  by  leaving  them  to  die.  He  does  not  seem  to  have  con- 
sidered that  the  bridle  of  Theages  ’’  might  be  accompanied 
by  qualities  which  were  of  far  more  value  to  the  State  than  the 
health  or  strength  of  the  citizens ; or  that  the  duty  of  taking  care 
of  the  helpers  might  be  an  important  element  of  education  in  a 
State.  The  physician  himself  (this  is  a delicate  and  subtle  ob- 
servation) should  not  be  a man  in  robust  health ; he  should  have, 
in  modern  phraseology,  a nervous  temperament ; he  should  have 
experience  of  disease  in  his  own  person,  in  order  that  his  powers 
of  observation  may  be  quickened  in  the  case  of  others. 

The  perplexity  of  medicine  is  paralleled  by  the  perplexity  of 
law ; in  which,  again,  Plato  would  have  men  follow  the  golden 
rule  of  simplicity.  Greater  matters  are  to  be  determined  by  the 
legislator  or  by  the  oracle  of  Delphi,  lesser  matters  are  to  be 
left  to  the  temporary  regulation  of  the  citizens  themselves. 
Plato  is  aware  that  laissez  faire  is  an  important  element  of  gov- 
ernment. The  diseases  of  a State  are  like  the  heads  of  a hydra ; 
they  multiply  when  they  are  cut  oif . The  true  remedy  for  them 
is  not  extirpation,  but  prevention.  And  the  way  to  prevent 
them  is  to  take  care  of  education,  and  education  will  take  care 
of  all  the  rest.  So  in  modern  times  men  have  often  felt  that 
the  only  political  measure  worth  having — the  only  one  which 
would  produce  any  certain  or  lasting  efifect,  was  a measure  of 
national  education.  And  in  our  own  more  than  in  any  previous 
age  the  necessity  has  been  recognized  of  restoring  the  ever- 
increasing  confusion  of  law  to  simplicity  and  common-sense. 
-•When  the  training  in  music  and  gymnastics  is  completed, 
there  follows  the  first  stage  of  active  and  public  life.  But  soon 
education  is  to  begin  again  from  a new  point  of  view.  In  the 
interval  between  the  fourth  and  seventh  books  we  have  dis- 
cussed the  nature  of  knowledge,  and  have  thence  been  led  to 
form  a higher  conception  of  what  was  required  of  us.  For 
true  knowledge,  according  to  Plato,  is  of  abstractions,  and  has 
to  do,  not  with  particulars  or  individuals,  but  with  universals 
only;  not  with  the  beauties  of  poetry,  but  with  the  ideas  of 


TRANSLATOR'S  INTRODUCTION 


Ixix 


philosophy.  And  the  great  aim  of  education  is  the  cultivation 
of  the  habit  of  abstraction.  This  is  to  be  acquired  through  the 
study  of  the  mathematical  sciences.  They  alone  are  capable  of 
giving  ideas  of  relation,  and  of  arousing  the  dormant  energies 
of  thought. 

I^athematics  in  the  age  of  Plato  comprehended  a very  small 
part  of  that  which  is  now  included  in  them;  but  they  bore  a 
much  larger  proportion  to  the  sum  of  human  knowledge.  They 
were  the  only  organon  of  thought  which  the  human  mind  at  that 
time  possessed,  and  the  only  measure  by  which  the  chaos  of  par- 
ticulars could  be  reduced  to  rule  and  order.  The  faculty  which 
they  trained  was  naturally  at  war  with  the  poetical  or  imagina- 
tive ; and  hence  to  Plato,  who  is  everywhere  seeking  for  abstrac- 
tions and  trying  to  get  rid  of  the  illusions  of  sense,  nearly  the 
whole  of  education  is  contained  in  them.  They  seemed  to  have 
an  inexhaustible  application,  partly  because  their  true  limits 
were  not  yet  understood.  These  Plato  himself  is  beginning  to 
investigate ; though  not  aware  that  number  and  figure  are  mere 
abstractions  of  sense,  he  recognizes  that  the  forms  used  by  ge- 
ometry are  borrowed  from  the  sensible  world  (vi.  510,511).  He 
seeks  to  find  the  ultimate  ground  of  mathematical  ideas  in  the 
idea  of  good,  though  he  does  not  satisfactorily  explain  the  con- 
nection between  them ; and  in  his  conception  of  the  relation  of 
ideas  to  numbers,  he  falls  very  far  short  of  the  definiteness  at- 
tributed to  him  by  Aristotle  Met.’’  i.  8,  § 24 ; ix.  17).  But  if 
he  fails  to  recognize  the  true  limits  of  mathematics,  he  also 
reaches  a point  beyond  them ; in  his  view,  ideas  of  number  be- 
come secondary  to  a higher  conception  of  knowledge.  The 
dialectician  is  as  much  above  the  mathematician  as  the  mathe- 
matician is  above  the  ordinary  man  (cp.  vii.  526  D,  531  E).  The 
one,  the  self-proving,  the  good  which  is  the  higher  sphere  of 
dialectic,  is  the  perfect  truth  to  which  all  things  ascend,  and  in 
which  they  finally  repose. 

This  self-proving  unity  or  idea  of  good  is  a mere  vision  of 
which  no  distinct  explanation  can  be  given,  relative  only  to  a 
particular  stage  in  Greek  philosophy.  It  is  an  abstraction  under 
which  no  individuals  are  comprehended,  a whole  which  has  no 
parts  (cf.  Arist.  ‘‘ Nic.  Eth.”  i.  4).  The  vacancy  of  such  a 
form  was  perceived  by  Aristotle,  but  not  by  Plato.  Nor  did  he 
recognize  that  in  the  dialectical  process  are  included  two  or 


Ixx 


PLATO 


more  methods  of  investigation  which  are  at  variance  with  each 
other.  He  did  not  see  that  whether  he  took  the  longer  or  the 
shorter  road,  no  advance  could  be  made  in  this  way.  And  yet 
' such  visions  often  have  an  immense  effect;  for  although  the 
method  of  science  cannot  anticipate  science,  the  idea  of  science, 
not  as  it  is,  but  as  it  will  be  in  the  future^  is  a great  and  inspir- 
ing principle.  In  the  pursuit  of  knowledge  we  are  always 
pressing  forward  to  something  beyond  us ; and  as  a false  con- 
ception of  knowledge,  for  example  the  scholastic  philosophy, 
may  lead  men  astray  during  many  ages,  so  the  true  ideal,  though 
vacant,  may  draw  all  their  thoughts  in  a right  direction.  It 
makes  a great  difference  whether  the  general  expectation  of 
knowledge,  as  this  indefinite  feeling  may  be  termed,  is  based 
upon  a sound  judgment.  For  mankind  may  often  entertain  a 
true  conception  of  what  knowledge  ought  to  be  when  they  have 
but  a slender  experience  of  facts.  T The  correlation  of  the  sci- 
ences, the  consciousness  of  the  unityof  nature,  the  idea  of  clas- 
sification, the  sense  of  proportion,  the  unwillingness  to  stop 
short  of  certainty  or  to  confound  probability  with  truth,  are  im- 
portant principles  of  the  higher  educatiotf^  Although  Plato 
could  tell  us  nothing,  and  perhaps  knew  tKat  he  could  tell  us 
nothing,  of  the  absolute  truth,  he  has  exercised  an  influence  on 
the  human  mind  which  even  at  the  present  day  is  not  exhausted ; 
and  political  and  social  questions  may  yet  arise  in  which  the 
thoughts  of  Plato  may  be  read  anew  and  receive  a fresh 
meaning. 

The  Idea  of  good  is  so  called  only  in  the  ‘‘  Republic,’’  but 
there  are  traces  of  it  in  other  dialogues  of  Plato.  It  is  a cause 
as  well  as  an  idea,  and  from  this  point  of  view  may  be  compared 
with  the  creator  of  the  Timaeus,”  who  out  of  his  goodness 
created  all  things.  It  corresponds  to  a certain  extent  with  the 
modern  conception  of  a law  of  nature,  or  of  a final  cause,  or  of 
both  in  one,  and  in  this  regard  may  be  connected  with  the  meas- 
ure and  symmetry  of  the  ‘‘  Philebus.”  It  is  represented  in  the 
Symposium  under  the  aspect  of  beauty,  and  is  supposed  to  be 
attained  there  by  stages  of  initiation,  as  here  by  regular  grada- 
tions of  knowledge.  Viewed  subjectively,  it  is  the  process  or 
science  of  dialectic.  This  is  the  science  which,  according  to 
the  Phsedrus,”  is  the  true  basis  of  rhetoric,  which  alone  is  able 
to  distinguish  the  natures  and  classes  of  men  and  things ; which 


TRANSLATOR’S  INTRODUCTION 


Ixxi 


divides  a whole  into  the  natural  parts,  and  reunites  the  scattered 
parts  into  a natural  or  organized  whole ; which  defines  the  ab- 
stract essences  or  universal  ideas  of  all  things,  and  connects 
them ; which  pierces  the  veil  of  hypotheses  and  reaches  the  final 
cause  or  first  principle  of  all ; which  regards  the  sciences  in  re- 
lation to  the  idea  of  good.  This  ideal  science  is  the  highest 
process  of  thought,  and  may  be  described  as  the  soul  conversing 
with  herself  or  holding  communion  with  eternal  truth  and 
beauty,  and  in  another  form  is  the  everlasting  question  and  an- 
swer— the  ceaseless  interrogative  of  Socrates.  The  dialogues 
of  Plato  are  themselves  examples  of  the  nature  and  method  of 
dialectic.  Viewed  objectively,  the  idea  of  good  is  a power  or 
cause  which  makes  the  world  without  us  correspond  with  the 
world  within.  Yet  this  world  without  us  is  still  a world  of 
ideas.  With  Plato  the  investigation  of  nature  is  another  de- 
partment of  knowledge,  and  in  this  he  seeks  to  attain  only  prob- 
able conclusions  (cp.  Timseus,’’  44  D). 

If  we  ask  whether  this  science  of  dialectic  which  Plato  only 
half  explains  to  us  is  more  akin  to  logic  or  to  metaphysics,  the 
answer  is  that  in  his  mind  the  two  sciences  are  not  as  yet  dis- 
tinguished, any  more  than  the  subjective  and  objective  aspects 
of  the  world  and  of  man,  which  German  philosophy  has  revealed 
to  us.  Nor  has  he  determined  whether  his  science  of  dialectic 
is  at  rest  or  in  motion^  concerned  with  the  contemplation  of  ab- 
solute being,  or  with  a process  of  development  and  evolution. 
Modem  metaphysics  may  be  described  as  the  science  of  abstrac- 
tions, or  as  the  science  of  the  evolution  of  thought;  modern 
logic,  when  passing  beyond  the  bounds  of  mere  Aristotelian 
forms,  may  be  defined  as  the  science  of  method.  The  germ  of 
both  of  them  is  contained  in  the  Platonic  dialectic;  all  meta- 
physicians have  something  in  common  with  the  ideas  of  Plato ; 
all  logicians  have  derived  something  from  the  method  of  Plato. 
The  nearest  approach  in  modern  philosophy  to  the  universal 
science  of  Plato,  is  to  be  found  in  the  Hegelian  succession  of 
moments  in  the  unity  of  the  idea.”  Plato  and  Hegel  alike  seem 
to  have  conceived  the  world  as  the  correlation  of  abstractions ; 
and  not  impossibly  they  would  have  understood  one  another 
better  than  any  of  their  commentators  understand  them  (cp. 
Swift’s  ‘‘  Voyage  to  Laputa,”  c.  8^).  There  is,  however,  a dif- 

* “ Having  a desire  to  see  those  ancients  who  were  most  renowned  for  wit  and  learning, 
1 set  apart  one  day  on  pumose.  I p»'oposed  that  Homer  and  Aristotle  might  appear  at 


Ixxii 


PLATO 


ference  between  them : for  whereas  Hegel  is  thinking  of  all  the 
minds  of  men  as  one  mind,  which  develops  the  stages  of  the  idea 
in  different  countries  or  at  different  times  in  the  same  country, 
with  Plato  these  gradations  are  regarded  only  as  an  order  of 
thought  or  ideas ; the  history  of  the  human  mind  had  not  yet 
dawned  upon  him. 

Many  criticisms  may  be  made  on  Plato's  theory  of  education. 
While  in  some  respects  he  unavoidably  falls  short  of  modern 
thinkers,  in  others  he  is  in  advance  of  them.  He  is  opposed  to 
the  modes  of  education  which  prevailed  in  his  own  time;  but 
he  can  hardly  be  said  to  have  discovered  new  ones.  He  does 
not  see  that  education  is  relative  to  the  characters  of  individ- 
uals ; he  only  desires  to  impress  the  same  form  of  the  state  on 
the  minds  of  all.  He  has  no  sufficient  idea  of  the  effect  of  lit- 
erature on  the  formation  of  the  mind,  and  greatly  exaggerates 
that  of  mathematics.  His  aim  is  above  all  things  to  train  the 
reasoning  faculties ; to  implant  in  the  mind  the  spirit  and  power 
of  abstraction;  to  explain  and  define  general  notions,  and,  if 
possible,  to  connect  them.  No  wonder  that  in  the  vacancy  of 
actual  knowledge  his  followers,  and  at  times  even  he  himself, 
should  have  fallen  away  from  the  doctrine  of  ideas,  and  have 
returned  to  that  branch  of  knowledge  in  which  alone  the  rela- 
tion of  the  one  and  many  can  be  truly  seen — the  science  of  num- 
ber. In  his  views  both  of  teaching  and  training  he  might  be 
styled,  in  modern  language,  a doctrinaire ; after  the  Spartan 
fashion  he  would  have  his  citizens  cast  in  one  mould ; he  does 
not  seem  to  consider  that  some  degree  of  freedom,  a little 
wholesome  neglect,"  is  necessary  to  strengthen  and  develop  the 
character  and  to  give  play  to  the  individual  nature.  His  citi- 
zens would  not  have  acquired  that  knowledge  which  in  the 
vision  of  Er  is  supposed  to  be  gained  by  the  pilgrims  from  their 
experience  of  evil. 

the  head  of  all  their  commentators ; but  these  were  so  numerous  that  some  hundreds 
were  forced  to  attend  in  the  court  and  outward  rooms  of  the  palace.  I knew,  and  could 
distinguish  these  two  heroes,  at  first  sight,  not  only  from  the  crowd,  but  from  each  other. 
Homer  was  the  taller  and  comelier  person  of  the  two,  walked  very  erect  for  one  of  his 
age,  and  his  eyes  were  the  most  quick  and  piercing  I ever  beheld.  Aristotle  stooped 
much,  and  made  use  of  a staff.  His  visage  was  meagre,  his  hair  lank  and  thin,  and  his 
voice  hollow.  I soon  discovered  that  both  of  them  were  perfect  strangers  to  the  rest  of 
the  company,  and  had  never  seen  or  heard  of  them  before.  And  I had  a whisper  from  a 
ghost,  who  shall  be  nameless,  ‘ That  these  commentators  always  kept  in  the  most  distant 
quarters  from  their  principals,  in  the  lower  world,  through  a consciousness  of  shame  and 
guilt,  because  they  had  so  horribly  misrepresented  the  meaning  of  these  authors  to  pos- 
terity.’ I introduced  Didymus  and  Eustathius  to  Homer,  and  prevailed  on  him  to  treat 
them  better  than  perhaps  they  deserved,  for  he  soon  found  they  wanted  a genius  to  enter 
into  the  spirit  of  a poet.  But  Aristotle  was  out  of  all  patience  with  the  account  I gave 
him  of  Scotus  and  Ramus,  as  I presented  them  to  him ; and  he  asked  them  ‘ whether  the 
rest  of  the  tribe  were  as  great  dunces  as  themselves.’  ” 


TRANSLATOR’S  INTRODUCTION 


Ixxiii 


On  the  other  hand,  Plato  is  far  in  advance  of  modern  philos- 
ophers and  theologians  when  he  teaches  that  education  is  to  be 
continued  through  life  and  will  begin  again  in  another.  He 
would  never  allow  education  of  some  kind  to  cease ; although 
he  was  aware  that  the  proverbial  saying  of  Solon,  I grow  old 
learning  many  things,’’  cannot  be  applied  literally.  Himself 
ravished  with  the  contemplation  of  the  idea  of  good,  and  de- 
lighting in  solid  geometry  Rep.”  vii.  528),  he  has  no  diffi- 
culty in  imagining  that  a lifetime  might  be  passed  happily  in 
such  pursuits.  We  who  know  how  many  more  men  of  business 
there  are  in  the  world  than  real  students  or  thinkers,  are  not 
equally  sanguine.  The  education  which  he  proposes  for  his 
citizens  is  really  the  ideal  life  of  the  philosopher  or  man  of  gen- 
ius, interrupted,  but  only  for  a time,  by  practical  duties — a life 
not  for  the  many,  but  for  the  few. 

Yet  the  thought  of  Plato  may  not  be  wholly  incapable  of  ap- 
plication to  our  own  times.  Even  if  regarded  as  an  ideal  which 
can  never  be  realized,  it  may  have  a great  effect  in  elevating  the 
characters  of  mankind^  and  raising  them  above  the  routine  of 
their  ordinary  occupation  or  profession.  It  is  the  best  form 
under  which  we  can  conceive  the  whole  of  life.  Nevertheless 
the  idea  of  Plato  is  not  easily  put  into  practice.  For  the  educa- 
tion of  after-life  is  necessarily  the  education  which  each  one 
gives  himself.  Men  and  women  cannot  be  brought  together 
in  schools  or  colleges  at  forty  or  fifty  years  of  age ; and  if  they 
could  the  result  would  be  disappointing.  The  destination  of 
most  men  is  what  Plato  would  call  the  Den  ” for  the  whole  of 
life,  and  with  that  they  are  content.  Neither  have  they  teachers 
or  advisers  with  whom  they  can  take  counsel  in  riper  years. 
There  is  no  ‘‘  schoolmaster  abroad  ” who  will  tell  them  of  their 
faults,  or  inspire  them  with  the  higher  sense  of  duty,  or  with 
the  ambition  of  a true  success  in  life ; no  Socrates  who  will  con- 
vict them  of  ignorance ; no  Christ,  or  follower  of  Christ,  who 
will  reprove  them  of  sin.  Hence  they  have  a difficulty  in  re- 
ceiving the  ffi:atjelem^Ot  .of  improyemeffi^  which  is  self-knowl- 
edge^ The  hopes  of  youth  no  longer  stir  them;  they  rather 
wish  to  rest  than  to  pursue  high  objects.  A few  only  who  have 
come  across  great  men  and  women,  or  eminent  teachers  of  re- 
ligion and  morality,  have  received  a second  life  from  them,  and 
have  lighted  a candle  from  the  fire  of  their  genius. 


Ixxiv 


PLATO 


The  want  of  energy  is  one  of  the  main  reasons  why  so  few 
persons  continue  to  improve  in  later  years.  They  have  not  the 
will,  and  do  not  know  the  way.  They  ‘‘  never  try  an  experi- 
ment,'’ or  look  up  a point  of  interest  for  themselves ; they  make 
no  sacrifices  for  the  sake  of  knowledge ; their  minds,  like  their 
bodies,  at  a certain  age  become  fixed.  Genius  has  been  defined 
as  “ the  power  of  taking  pains  " ; but  hardly  anyone  keeps  up 
his  interest  in  knowledge  throughout  a whole  life.  The  troub- 
les of  a family,  the  business  of  making  money,  the  demands  of 
a profession,  destroy  the  elasticity  of  the  mind.  The  waxen 
tablet  of  the  memory  which  was  once  capable  of  receiving  ‘‘  true 
thoughts  and  clear  impressions  " becomes  hard  and  crowded ; 
there  is  not  room  for  the  accumulations  of  a long  life  Theaet." 
194  ff.).  The  student,  as  years  advance,  rather  makes  an  ex- 
change of  knowledge  than  adds  to  his  stores.  There  is  no 
pressing  necessity  to  learn ; the  stock  of  classics  or  history  or 
natural  science  which  was  enough  for  a man  at  twenty-five  is 
enough  for  him  at  fifty.  Neither  is  it  easy  to  give,  a definite 
answer  to  anyone  who  asks  how  he  is  to  improve,  f For  self- 
education  consists  in  a thousand  things,  commonplace  in  them- 
selves— in  adding  to  what  we  are  by  nature  something  of  what 
we  are  not ; in  learning  to  see  ourselves  as  others  see  us ; in  judg- 
ing, not  by  opinion,  but  by  the  evidence  of  facts ; in  seeking  out 
the  society  of  superior  minds ; in  a study  of  the  lives  and  writ- 
ings of  great  men ; in  observation  of  the  world  and  character ; 
in  receiving  kindly  the  natural  influence  of  different  times  of 
life ; in  any  act  or  thought  which  is  raised  above  the  practice 
or  opinions  of  mankind ; in  the  pursuit  of  some  new  or  original 
inquiry;  in  any  effort  of  mind  which  calls  forth  some  latent 


If  anyone  is  desirous  of  carrying  out  in  detail  the  Platonic 
education  of  after-life,  some  such  counsels  as  the  following  may 
be  offered  to  him : That  he  shall  choose  the  branch  of  knowl- 
edge to  which  his  own  mind  most  distinctly  inclines,  and  in 
which  he  takes  the  greatest  delight,  either  one  which  seems  to 
connect  with  his  own  daily  employment,  or,  perhaps,  furnishes 
the  greatest  contrast  to  it.  He  may  study  from  the  speculative 
side  the  profession  or  business  in  which  he  is  practically  em 
gaged.  He  may  make  Homer,  Dante,  Shakespeare,  Plato, 
Bacon  the  friends  and  companions  of  his  life.  He  may  find  op- 


TRANSLATOR'S  INTRODUCTION 


Ixxv 


portunities  of  hearing  the  living  voice  of  a great  teacher.  He 
may  select  for  inquiry  some  point  of  history  or  some  unex- 
plained phenomenon  of  nature.  An  hour  a day  passed  in  such 
scientific  or  literary  pursuits  will  furnish  as  many  facts  as  the 
memory  can  retain,  and  will  give  him  ‘‘  a pleasure  not  to  be  re- 
pented of  ’’  C Timaeus,'’  59  D).  Only  let  him  beware  of  being 
the  slave  of  crotchets,  or  of  running  after  a will-o’-the-wisp  in 
his  ignorance,  or  in  his  vanity  of  attributing  to  himself  the  gifts 
of  a poet  or  assuming  the  air  of  a philosopher.  He  should 
know  the  limits  of  his  own  powers.  Better  to  build  up  the 
mind  by  slow  additions,  to  creep  on  quietly  from  one  thing  to 
another,  to  gain  insensibly  new  powers  and  new  interests  in 
knowledge,  than  to  form  vast  schemes  which  are  never  destined 
to  be  realized.  But  perhaps,  as  Plato  would  say,  This  is  part 
of  another  subject  ’’  (“  Tim.’’  87  B)  ; though  we  may  also  de- 
fend our  digression  by  his  example  Theaet.”  72,  77). 

IV.  We  remark  with  surprise  that  the  progress  of  nations  or 
the  natural  growth  of  institutions  which  fill  modern  treatises  on 
political  philosophy  seem  hardly  ever  to  have  attracted  the  at- 
tention of  Plato  and  Aristotle.  The  ancients  were  familiar 
with  the  mutability  of  human  affairs ; they  could  moralize  over 
the  ruins  of  cities  and  the  fall  of  empires  (cp.  Plato,  States- 
man ” 301,  302,  and  Sulpicius’s  ''  Letter  to  Cicero,  ad  Fam,” 
IV.  5)  ; by  them  fate  and  chance  were  deemed  to  be  real  powers, 
almost  persons,  and  to  have  had  a great  share  in  political 
events.  The  wiser  of  them  like  Thucydides  believed  that  what 
had  been  would  be  again,”  and  that  a tolerable  idea  of  the  future 
could  be  gathered  from  the  past.  Also  they  had  dreams  of  a 
golden  age  which  existed  once  upon  a time  and  might  still  exist 
in  some  unknown  land,  or  might  return  again  in  the  remote 
future.  But  the  regular  growth  of  a state  enlightened  by  ex- 
perience, progressing  in  knowledge,  improving  in  the  arts,  of 
which  the  citizens  were  educated  by  the  fulfilment  of  political 
duties,  appears  never  to  have  come  within  the  range  of  their 
hopes  and  aspirations.  Such  a state  had  never  been  seen,  and 
therefore  could  not  be  conceived  by  them.  Their  experience 
(cp.  Aristot.  ‘‘  Metaph.”  xi.  21 ; Plato,  Laws  ” iii.  676-679) 
led  them  to  conclude  that  there  had  been  cycles  of  civilization  in 
which  the  arts  had  been  discovered  and  lost  many  times  over, 


Ixxvi 


PLATO 


and  cities  had  been  overthrown  and  rebuilt  again  and  again,  and 
deluges  and  volcanoes  and  other  natural  convulsions  had  altered 
the  face  of  the  earth.  Tradition  told  them  of  many  destruc- 
tions of  mankind  and  of  the  preservation  of  a remnant.  The 
world  began  again  after  a deluge  and  was  reconstructed  out  of 
the  fragments  of  itself.  Also  they  were  acquainted  with  em- 
pires of  unknown  antiquity,  like  the  Egyptian  or  Assyrian ; but 
they  had  never  seen  them  grow,  and  could  not  imagine,  any 
more  than  we  can,  the  state  of  man  which  preceded  them.  They 
were  puzzled  and  awestricken  by  the  Egyptian  monuments,  of 
which  the  forms,  as  Plato  says,  not  in  a figure,  but  literally,  were 
10,000  years  old  Laws  ’’  ii.  656  E),  and  they  contrasted  the 
antiquity  of  Egypt  with  their  own  short  memories. 

The  early  legends  of  Hellas  have  no  real  connection  with  the 
later  history : they  are  at  a distance,  and  the  intermediate  region 
is  concealed  from  view;  there  is  no  road  or  path  which  leads 
from  one  to  the  other.  At  the  beginning  of  Greek  history,  in 
the  vestibule  of  the  temple,  is  seen  standing  first  of  all  the  figure 
of  the  legislator,  himself  the  interpreter  and  servant  of  the  God. 
The  fundamental  laws  which  he  gives  are  not  supposed  to 
change  with  time  and  circumstances.  The  salvation  of  the 
State  is  held  rather  to  depend  on  the  inviolable  maintenance  of 
them.  They  were  sanctioned  by  the  authority  of  heaven,  and 
it  was  deemed  impiety  to  alter  them.  The  desire  to  maintain 
them  unaltered  seems  to  be  the  origin  of  what  at  first  sight  is 
very  surprising  to  us — ^the  intolerant  zeal  of  Plato  against  inno- 
vators in  religion  or  politics  (cp.  ‘‘Laws’’  x.  907-9^9);  al- 
though with  a happy  inconsistency  he  is  also  willing  that  the 
laws  of  other  countries  should  be  studied  and  improvements  in 
legislation  privately  communicated  to  the  Nocturnal  Council 
(“  Laws  ” xii.  951,  952).  The  additions  which  were  made  to 
them  in  later  ages  in  order  to  meet  the  increasing  complexity  of 
affairs  were  still  ascribed  by  a fiction  to  the  original  legislator ; 
and  the  words  of  such  enactments  at  Athens  were  disputed  over 
as  if  they  had  been  the  words  of  Solon  himself.  Plato  hopes 
to  preserve  in  a later  generation  the  mind  of  the  legislator ; he 
would  have  his  citizens  remain  within  the  lines  which  he  has 
laid  down  for  them.  He  would  not  harass  them  with  minute 
regulations,  and  he  would  have  allowed  some  changes  in  the 
laws : but  not  changes  which  would  affect  the  fundamental  in- 


TRANSLATOR'S  INTRODUCTION 


Ixxvii 


stitutions  of  the  State,  such  for  example  as  would  convert  an 
aristocracy  into  a timocracy,  or  a timocracy  into  a popular  form 
of  government. 

Passing  from  speculations  to  facts,  we  observe  that  progress 
has  been  the  exception  rather  than  the  law  of  human  history. 
And  therefore  we  are  not  surprised  to  find  that  the  idea  of  prog- 
ress is  of  modern  rather  than  of  ancient  date ; and,  like  the  idea 
of  a philosophy  of  history,  is  not  more  than  a century  or  two 
old.  It  seems  to  have  arisen  out  of  the  impression  left  on  the 
human  mind  by  the  growth  of  the  Roman  Empire  and  of  the 
Christian  Church,  and  to  be  due  to  the  political  and  social  im- 
provements which  they  introduced  into  the  world ; and  still 
more  in  our  own  century  to  the  idealism  of  the  first  French 
Revolution  and  the  triumph  of  American  Independence ; and  in 
a yet  greater  degree  to  the  vast  material  prosperity  and  growth 
of  population  in  England  and  her  colonies  and  in  America.  It 
is  also  to  be  ascribed  in  a measure  to  the  greater  study  of  the 
philosophy  of  history.  The  optimistic  temperament  of  some 
great  writers  has  assisted  the  creation  of  it,  while  the  opposite 
character  has  led  a few  to  regard  the  future  of  the  world  as 
dark.  The  “ spectator  of  all  time  and  of  all  existence  sees 
more  of  ''  the  increasing  purpose  which  through  the  ages  ran 
than  formerly : but  to  the  inhabitant  of  a small  State  of  Hellas 
the  vision  was  necessarily  limited  like  the  valley  in  which  he 
dwelt.  There  was  no  remote  past  on  which  his  eye  could  rest, 
nor  any  future  from  which  the  veil  was  partly  lifted  up  by  the 
analogy  of  history.  The  narrowness  of  view,  which  to  ourselves 
appears  so  singular,  was  to  him  natural,  if  not  unavoidable. 

V.  For  the  relation  of  the  ‘‘  Republic  to  the  ''  Statesman 
and  the  Laws,’’  the  two  other  works  of  Plato  which  directly 
treat  of  politics,  see  the  introductions  to  the  two  latter ; a few 
general  points  of  comparison  may  be  touched  upon  in  this  place. 

And  first  of  the  Laws.”  (i)  The  ‘‘Republic,”  though 
probably  written  at  intervals,  yet, ^ speaking  generally  and  judg- 
ing by  the  indications  of  thought  and  style,  may  be  reasonably 
ascribed  to  the  middle  period  of  Plato’s  life : the  “ Laws  ” are 
certainly  the  work  of  his  declining  years,  and  some  portions  of 
them  at  any  rate  seem  to  have  been  written  in  extreme  old  age. 

(2)  The  “Republic”  is  full  of  hope  and  aspiration:  the 

Classics.  Vol.  31 — 4 


Ixxviii 


PLATO 


Laws  ’’  bear  the  stamp  of  failure  and  disappointment.  The 
one  is  a finished  work  which  received  the  last  touches  of  the 
author:  the  other  is  imperfectly  executed,  and  apparently  un- 
finished. The  one  has  the  grace  and  beauty  of  youth : the  other 
has  lost  the  poetical  form,  but  has  more  of  the  severity  and 
knowledge  of  life  which  are  characteristic  of  old  age.  (3)  The 
most  conspicuous  defect  of  the  “ Laws  ” is  the  failure  of  dra- 
matic power,  whereas  the  ''  Republic  ’’  is  full  of  striking  con- 
trasts of  ideas  and  oppositions  of  character.  (4)  The  Laws 
may  be  said  to  have  more  the  nature  of  a sermon,  the  ''  Repub- 
lic ’’  of  a poem ; the  one  is  more  religious,  the  other  more  intel- 
lectual. (5)  Many  theories  of  Plato,  such  as  the  doctrine  of 
ideas,  the  government  of  the  world  by  philosophers,  are  not 
found  in  the  Laws  ; the  immortality  of  the  soul  is  first  men- 
tioned in  xii.  959,  967;  the  person  of  Socrates  has  altogether 
disappeared.  The  community  of  women  and  children  is  re- 
nounced ; the  institution  of  common  or  public  meals  for  women 

Laws  vi.  781)  is  for  the  first  time  introduced  (Ar.  ‘‘  Pol.’’ 
ii.  6,  § 5).  (6)  There  remains  in  the  ‘‘  Laws  ” the  old  enmity 

to  the  poets  (vii.  817),  who  are  ironically  saluted  in  high-flown 
terms,  and,  at  the  same  time,  are  peremptorily  ordered  out  of 
the  city,  if  they  are  not  willing  to  submit  their  poems  to  the  cen- 
sorship of  the  magistrates  (cp.  ‘‘  Rep.”  hi.  398).  (7)  Though 

the  work  is  in  most  respects  inferior,  there  are  a few  passages 
in  the  Laws,”  such  as  v.  727  ff.  (the  honor  due  to  the  soul), 
viii.  835  if.  (the  evils  of  licentious  or  unnatural  love),  the  whole 
of  Book  X.  (religion),  xi.  918  if.  (the  dishonesty  of  retail 
trade),  and  923  if . (bequests),  which  come  more  home  to  us, 
and  contain  more  of  what  may  be  termed  the  modern  element 
in  Plato  than  almost  anything  in  the  ‘‘  Republic.” 

The  relation  of  the  two  works  to  one  another  is  .very  well 
given : 

(i)  By  Aristotle  in  the  Politics”  (ii.  6,  §§  1-5)  from  the 
side  of  the  “ Laws  ” : 

The  same,  or  nearly  the  same,  objections  apply  to  Plato’s 
later  work,  the  ‘ Laws,’  and  therefore  we  had  better  examine 
briefly  the  constitution  which  is  therein  described.  In  the  ‘ Re- 
public,’ Socrates  has  definitely  settled  in  all  a few  questions 
only ; such  as  the  community  of  women  and  children,  the  com- 
munity of  property,  and  the  constitution  of  the  State.  The 


TRANSLATOR’S  INTRODUCTION 


Ixxix 


population  is  divided  into  two  classes — one  of  husbandmen,  and 
the  other  of  warriors ; from  this  latter  is  taken  a third  class  of 
counsellors  and  rulers  of  the  State.  But  Socrates  has  not  de- 
termined whether  the  husbandmen  and  artists  are  to  have  a 
share  in  the  government,  and  whether  they  too  are  to  carry  arms 
and  share  in  military  service  or  not.  He  certainly  thinks  that 
the  women  ought  to  share  in  the  education  of  the  guardians, 
and  to  fight  by  their  side.  The  remainder  of  the  work  is  filled 
up  with  digressions  foreign  to  the  main  subject,  and  with  dis- 
cussions about  the  education  of  the  guardians.  In  the  ‘ Laws  ’ 
there  is  hardly  anything  but  laws ; not  much  is  said  about  the 
constitution.  This,  which  he  had  intended  to  make  more  of  the 
ordinary  type,  he  gradually  brings  round  to  the  other  or  ideal 
form.  For  with  the  exception  of  the  community  of  women  and 
property,  he  supposes  everything  to  be  the  same  in  both  states ; 
there  is  to  be  the  same  education ; the  citizens  of  both  are  to  live 
free  from  servile  occupations,  and  there  are  to  be  common  meals 
in  both.  The  only  difference  is  that  in  the  ‘ Laws  ’ the  com- 
mon meals  are  extended  to  women,  and  the  warriors  number 
about  5,000,  but  in  the  ‘ Republic  ’ only  i,ooo.’’ 

(ii)  By  Plato  in  the  “ Laws  ’’  (Book  v.  739  B~E),  from  the 
side  of  the  ''  Republic  : 

‘‘  The  first  and  highest  form  of  the  State  and  of  the  govern- 
ment and  of  the  law  is  that  in  which  there  prevails  most  widely 
the  ancient  saying  that  " Friends  have  all  things  in  common.’ 
Whether  there  is  now,  or  ever  will  be,  this  communion  of 
women  and  children  and  of  property,  in  which  the  private  and 
individual  is  altogether  banished  from  life,  and  things  which 
are  by  nature  private,  such  as  eyes  and  ears  and  hands,  have  be- 
come common,  and  all  men  express  praise  and  blame,  and  feel 
joy  and  sorrow,  on  the  same  occcasions,  and  the  laws  unite  the 
city  to  the  utmost — whether  all  this  is  possible  or  not,  I say  that 
no  man,  acting  upon  any  other  principle,  will  ever  constitute  a 
State  more  exalted  in  virtue,  or  truer  or  better  than  this.  Such 
a State,  whether  inhabited  by  gods  or  sons  of  gods,  will  miake 
them  blessed  who  dwell  therein ; and  therefore  to  this  we  are 
to  look  for  the  pattern  of  the  State,  and  to  cling  to  this,  and,  as 
far  as  possible,  to  seek  for  one  which  is  like  this.  The  State 
which  we  have  now  in  hand,  when  created,  will  be  nearest  to 
immortality  and  unity  in  the  next  degree ; and  after  that,  by  the 


Ixxx 


PLATO 


grace  of  God,  we  will  complete  the  third  one.  And  we  will 
begin  by  speaking  of  the  nature  and  origin  of  the  second.’' 

The  comparatively  short  work  called  the  “ Statesman,”  or 
**  Politicus,”  in  its  style  and  manner  is  more  akin  to  the  ‘‘  Laws,” 
while  in  its  idealism  it  rather  resembles  the  “ Republic.”  As 
far  as  we  can  judge  by  various  indications  of  language  and 
thought,  it  must  be  later  than  the  one  and  of  course  earlier  than 
the  other.  In  both  the  ‘‘  Republic  ” and  ‘‘  Statesman  ” a close 
connection  is  maintained  between  politics  and  dialectic.  In  the 

Statesman,”  inquiries  into  the  principles  of  method  are  inter- 
spersed with  discussions  about  politics.  The  comparative  ad- 
vantages of  the  rule  of  law  and  of  a person  are  considered,  and 
the  decision  given  in  favor  of  a person  (Arist.  Pol.”  iii.  15, 
16).  But  much  may  be  said  on  the  other  side,  nor  is  the  oppo- 
sition necessary ; for  a person  may  rule  by  law,  and  law  may  be 
so  applied  as  to  be  the  living  voice  of  the  legislator.  As  in  the 

Republic,”  there  is  a myth,  describing,  however,  not  a future, 
but  a former  existence  of  mankind.  The  question  is  asked, 
‘‘  Whether  the  state  of  innocence  which  is  described  in  the  myth, 
or  a state  like  our  own  which  possesses  art  and  science  and  dis- 
tinguishes good  from  evil,  is  the  preferable  condition  of  man.” 
To  this  question  of  the  comparative  happiness  of  civilized  and 
primitive  life,  which  was  so  often  discussed  in  the  last  century 
and  in  our  own,  no  answer  is  given.  The  Statesman,”  though 
less  perfect  in  style  than  the  ‘‘  Republic  ” and  of  far  less  range, 
may  justly  be  regarded  as  one  of  the  greatest  of  Plato’s  dia- 
logues. 

VI.  Others  as  well  as  Plato  have  chosen  an  ideal  republic  to 
be  the  vehicle  of  thoughts  which  they  could  not  definitely  ex- 
press, or  which  went  beyond  their  own  age.  The  classical  writ- 
ing which  approaches  most  nearly  to  the  ''  Republic  ” of  Plato 
is  the  De  Republica  ” of  Cicero ; but  neither  in  this  nor  in  any 
other  of  his  dialogues  does  he  rival  the  art  of  Plato.  The  man- 
ners are  clumsy  and  inferior ; the  hand  of  the  rhetorician  is  ap- 
parent at  every  turn.  Yet  noble  sentiments  are  constantly  re- 
curring: the  true  note  of  Roman  patriotism — We  Romans  are 
a great  people  ” — resounds  through  the  whole  work.  Like 
Socrates,  Cicero  turns  away  from  the  phenomena  of  the  heavens 
to  civil  and  political  life.  He  would  rather  not  discuss  the  two 


TRANSLATOR’S  INTRODUCTION 


Ixxxi 


suns  ’’  of  which  all  Rome  was  talking,  when  he  can  converse 
about  the  two  nations  in  one ''  which  had  divided  Rome  ever 
since  the  days  of  the  Gracchi.  Like  Socrates  again,  speaking 
in  the  person  of  Scipio,  he  is  afraid  lest  he  should  assume  too 
much  the  character  of  a teacher,  rather  than  of  an  equal  who 
is  discussing  among  friends  the  two  sides  of  a question.  He 
would  confine  the  terms  king  ” or  state  ’’  to  the  rule  of 
reason  and  justice,  and  he  will  not  concede  that  title  either 
to  a democracy  or  to  a monarchy.  But  under  the  rule  of  rea- 
son and  justice  he  is  willing  to  include  the  natural  superior 
ruling  over  the  natural  inferior,  which  he  compares  to  the 
soul  ruling  over  the  body.  He  prefers  a mixture  of  forms 
of  government  to  any  single  one.  The  two  portraits  of  the 
just  and  the  unjust,  which  occur  in  the  second  book  of  the 
Republic,'’  are  transferred  to  the  State — Philus,  one  of  the 
interlocutors,  maintaining  against  his  will  the  necessity  of  in- 
justice as  a principle  of  government,  while  the  other,  Laelius, 
supports  the  opposite  thesis.  His  views  of  language  and  num- 
ber are  derived  from  Plato ; like  him  he  denounces  the  drama. 
He  also  declares  that  if  his  life  were  to  be  twice  as  long  he 
would  have  no  time  to  read  the  lyric  poets.  The  picture  of 
democracy  is  translated  by  him  word  for  word,  though  he  has 
hardly  shown  himself  able  to  carry  the  jest " of  Plato.  He 
converts  into  a stately  sentence  the  humorous  fancy  about 
the  animals,  who  are  so  imbued  with  the  spirit  of  democracy 
that  they  make  the  passers-by  get  out  of  their  way"  (i.  42). 
His  description  of  the  tyrant  is  imitated  from  Plato,  but  is 
far  inferior.  The  second  book  is  historical,  and  claims  for 
the  Roman  Constitution  (which  is  to  him  the  ideal)  a founda- 
tion of  fact  such  as  Plato  probably  intended  to  have  given 
to  the  Republic  in  the  Critias."  His  most  remarkable  im- 
itation of  Plato  is  the  adaptation  of  the  vision  of  Er,  which 
is  converted  by  Cicero  into  the  ''  Somnium  Scipionis " ; he 
has  ‘‘  romanized " the  myth  of  the  Republic,"  adding  an 
argument  for  the  immortality  of  the  soul  taken  from  the 
‘‘  Phsedrus,"  and  some  other  touches  derived  from  the 
Phsedo"  and  the  “ Timaeus."  Though  a beautiful  tale  and 
containing  splendid  passages,  the  “ Somnium  Scipionis"  is 
very  inferior  to  the  vision  of  Er;  it  is  only  a dream,  and 
hardly  allows  the  reader  to  suppose  that  the  writer  believes 


Ixxxii 


PLATO 


in  his  own  creation.  Whether  his  dialogues  were  framed  on 
the  model  of  the  lost  dialogues  of  Aristotle,  as  he  himself  tells 
us,  or  of  Plato,  to  which  they  bear  many  superficial  resem- 
blances, he  is  still  the  Roman  orator;  he  is  not  conversing, 
but  making  speeches,  and  is  never  able  to  mould  the  intractable 
Latin  to  the  grace  and  ease  of  the  Greek  Platonic  dialogue. 
But  if  he  is  defective  in  form,  much  more  is  he  inferior  to 
the  Greek  in  matter ; he  nowhere  in  his  philosophical  writings 
leaves  upon  our  minds  the  impression  of  an  original  thinker. 

Plato’s  Republic  ” has  been  said  to  be  a church  and  not 
a State ; and  such  an  ideal  of  a city  in  the  heavens  has  always 
hovered  over  the  Christian  world,  and  is  embodied  in  St.  Au- 
gustine’s De  Civitate  Dei,”  which  is  suggested  by  the  decay 
and  fall  of  the  Roman  Empire,  much  in  the  same  manner  in 
which  we  may  imagine  the  Republic  ” of  Plato  to  have  been 
influenced  by  the  decline  of  Greek  politics  in  the  writer’s  own 
age.  The  difference  is  that  in  the  time  of  Plato  the  degen- 
eracy, though  certain,  was  gradual  and  insensible:  whereas 
the  taking  of  Rome  by  the  Goths  stirred  like  an  earthquake 
the  age  of  St.  Augustine.  Men  were  inclined  to  believe  that 
the  overthrow  of  the  city  was  to  be  ascribed  to  the  anger 
felt  by  the  old  Roman  deities  at  the  neglect  of  their  worship. 
St.  Augustine  maintains  the  opposite  thesis;  he  argues  that 
the  destruction*  of  the  Roman  Empire  is  due,  not  to  the  rise 
of  Christianity,  but  to  the  vices  of  paganism.  He  wanders 
over  Roman  history,  and  over  Greek  philosophy  and  myth- 
ology, and  finds  everywhere  crime,  impiety,  and  falsehood. 
He  compares  the  worst  parts  of  the  gentile  religions  with  the 
best  elements  of  the  faith  of  Christ.  He  shows  nothing  of 
the  spirit  which  led  others  of  the  early  Christian  fathers  to 
recognize  in  the  writings  of  the  Greek  philosophers  the  power 
of  the  divine  truth.  He  traces  the  parallel  of  the  kingdom 
of  God,  that  is,  the  history  of  the  Jews,  contained  in  their 
scriptures,  and  of  the  kingdoms  of  the  world,  which  are  found 
in  gentile  writers,  and  pursues  them  both  into  an  ideal  future. 
It  need  hardly  be  remarked  that  his  use  both  of  Greek  and 
of  Roman  historians  and  of  the  sacred  writings  of  the  Jews 
is  wholly  uncritical.  The  heathen  mythology,  the  Sybilline 
oracles,  the  myths  of  Plato,  the  dreams  of  Neo-Platonists  are 
equally  regarded  by  him  as  matter  of  fact.  He  must  be  ac- 


TRANSLATOR’S  INTRODUCTION 


Ixxxiii 


knowledged  to  be  a strictly  polemical  or  controversial  writer 
who  makes  the  best  of  everything  on  one  side  and  the  worst 
of  everything  on  the  other.  He  has  no  sympathy  with  the  old 
Roman  life  as  Plato  has  with  Greek  life,  nor  has  he  any  idea 
of  the  ecclesiastical  kingdom  which  was  to  arise  out  of  the 
ruins  of  the  Roman  Empire.  He  is  not  blind  to  the  defects 
of  the  Christian  Church,  and  looks  forward  to  a time  when 
Christian  and  pagan  shall  be  alike  brought  before  the  judg- 
ment-seat, and  the  true  City  of  God  shall  appear.  . . . 

The  work  of  St.  Augustine  is  a curious  repertory  of  anti- 
quarian learning  and  quotations,  deeply  penetrated  with  Chris- 
tian ethics,  but  showing  little  power  of  reasoning,  and  a slender 
knowledge  of  the  Greek  literature  and  language.  He  was  a 
great  genius  and  a noble  character,  yet  hardly  capable  of 
feeling  or  understanding  anything  external  to  his  own  theol- 
ogy. Of  all  the  ancient  philosophers  he  is  most  attracted  by 
Plato,  though  he  is  very  slightly  acquainted  with  his  writings. 
He  is  inclined  to  believe  that  the  idea  of  creation  in  the 
Timaeus  ” is  derived  from  the  narrative  in  Genesis;  and  he 
is  strangely  taken  with  the  coincidence ( ?)  of  Plato’s  saying 
that  ''  the  philosopher  is  the  lover  of  God,”  and  the  words  of 
the  book  of  Exodus  in  which  God  reveals  himself  to  Moses 
(Exod.  iii.  14).  He  dwells  at  length  on  miracles  performed 
in  his  own  day,  of  which  the  evidence  is  regarded  by  him 
as  irresistible.  He  speaks  in  a very  interesting  manner  of 
the  beauty  and  utility  of  nature  and  of  the  human  frame, 
which  he  conceives  to  afford  a foretaste  of  the  heavenly  state 
and  of  the  resurrection  of  the  body.  The  book  is  not  really 
what  to  most  persons  the  title  of  it  would  imply,  and  belongs 
to  an  age  which  has  passed  away.  But  it  contains  many  fine 
passages  and  thoughts  which  are  for  all  time. 

The  short  treatise  De  Monarchia,”  of  Dante,  is  by  far  the 
most  remarkable  of  mediaeval  ideals,  and  bears  the  impress  of 
the  great  genius  in  whom  Italy  and  the  Middle  Ages  are  so 
vividly  reflected.  It  is  the  vision  of  a universal  empire,  which 
is  supposed  to  be  the  natural  and  necessary  government  of 
the  world,  having  a divine  authority  distinct  from  the  papacy, 
yet  coextensive  with  it.  It  is  not  ‘‘  the  ghost  of  the  dead 
Roman  Empire  sitting  crowned  upon  the  grave  thereof,”  but 
the  legitimate  heir  and  successor  of  it,  justified  by  the  ancient 


Ixxxiv 


PLATO 


virtues  of  the  Romans  and  the  beneficence  of  their  rule.  Their 
right  to  be  the  governors  of  the  world  is  also  confirmed  by 
the  testimony  of  miracles,  and  acknowledged  by  St.  Paul  when 
he  appealed  to  Caesar,  and  even  more  emphatically  by  Christ 
himself,  who  could  not  have  made  atonement  for  the  sins  of 
men  if  he  had  not  been  condemned  by  a divinely  authorized 
tribunal.  The  necessity  for  the  establishment  of  a universal 
empire  is  proved  partly  by  a priori  arguments  such  as  the  unity 
of  God  and  the  unity  of  the  family  or  nation;  partly  by  per- 
versions of  Scripture  and  history,  by  false  analogies  of  nature, 
by  misapplied  quotations  from  the  classics,  and  by  odd  scraps 
and  commonplaces  of  logic,  showing  a familiar  but  by  no 
means  exact  knowledge  of  Aristotle  (of  Plato  there  is  none). 
But  a more  convincing  argument  still  is  the  paiserable  state  of 
the  world,  which  he  touchingly  describes.  (He  sees  no  hope 
of  happiness  or  peace  for  mankind  until  ^all  nations  of  the 
earth  are  comprehended  in  a single  empire.  \ The  whole  trea- 
tise shows  how  deeply  the  idea  of  the  Romaif  Empire  was  fixed 
in  the  minds  of  his  contemporaries.  Not  much  argument  was 
needed  to  maintain  the  truth  of  a theory  which  to  his  own 
contemporaries  seemed  so  natural  and  congenial.  He  speaks, 
or  rather  preaches,  from  the  point  of  view,  not  of  the  eccle- 
siastic, but  of  the  layman,  although,  as  a good  Catholic,  he 
is  willing  to  acknowledge  that  in  certain  respects  the  empire 
must  submit  to  the  Church.  The  beginning  and  end  of  all 
his  noble  reflections  and  of  his  arguments,  good  and  bad,  is 
the  aspiration  that  in  this  little  plot  of  earth  belonging  to 
mortal  man  life  may  pass  in  freedom  and  peace.’’  So  inex- 
tricably is  his  vision  of  the  future  bound  up  with  the  beliefs 
and  circumstances  of  his  own  age. 

The  Utopia  ” of  Sir  Thomas  More  is  a surprising  monu- 
ment of  his  genius,  and  shows  a reach  of  thought  far  beyond 
his  contemporaries.  The  book  was  written  by  him  at  the 
age  of  about  thirty-four  or  thirty-five,  and  is  full  of  the  gen- 
erous sentiments  of  youth.  He  brings  the  light  of  Plato  to 
bear  upon  the  miserable  state  of  his  own  country.  Living 
not  long  after  the  Wars  of  the  Roses,  and  in  the  dregs  of 
the  Catholic  Church  in  England,  he  is  indignant  at  the  cor- 
ruption of  the  clergy,  at  the  luxury  of  the  nobility  and  gentry, 
at  the  sufferings  of  the  poor,  at  the  calamities  caused  by  war. 


TRANSLATOR'S  INTRODUCTION 


Ixxxv 


To  the  eye  of  More  the  whole  world  was  in  dissolution  and 
decay,  and  side  by  side  with  the  misery  and  oppression  which 
he  has  described  in  the  first  book  of  the  Utopia,'’  he  places 
in  the  second  book  the  ideal  State  which  by  the  help  of  Plato 
he  had  constructed.  The  times  were  full  of  stir  and  intel- 
lectual interest.  The  distant  murmur  of  the  Reformation  was 
beginning  to  be  heard.  To  minds  like  More’s,  Greek  litera- 
ture was  a revelation:  there  had  arisen  an  art  of  interpreta- 
tion, and  the  New  Testament  was  beginning  to  be  understood 
as  it  had  never  been  before,  and  has  not  often  been  since, 
in  its  natural  sense.  The  life  there  depicted  appeared  to  him 
wholly  unlike  that  of  Christian  commonwealths,  in  which  he 
saw  nothing  but  a certain  conspiracy  of  rich  men  procuring 
their  own  commodities  under  the  name  and  title  of  the  Com- 
monwealth.” He  thought  that  Christ,  like  Plato,  instituted 
all  things  common,”  for  which  reason,  he  tells  us,  the  citi- 
zens of  Utopia  were  the  more  willing  to  receive  his  doctrines.^ 
The  community  of  property  is  a fixed  idea  with  him,  though 
he  is  aware  of  the  arguments  which  may  be  urged  on  the 
other  side.^  We  wonder  how  in  the  reign  of  Henry  VIH, 
though  veiled  in  another  language  and  published  in  a foreign 
country,  such  speculations  could  have  been  endured. 

He  is  gifted  with  far  greater  dramatic  invention  than  any- 
one who  succeeded  him,  with  the  exception  of  Swift.  In  the 
art  of  feigning  he  is  a worthy  disciple  of  Plato.  Like  him, 
starting  from  a small  portion  of  fact,  he  founds  his  tale  with 
admirable  skill  on  a few  lines  in  the  Latin  narrative  of  the 
voyages  of  Amerigo  Vespucci.  He  is  very  precise  about 
dates  and  facts,  and  has  the  power  of  making  us  believe  that 
the  narrator  of  the  tale  must  have  been  an  eye-witness.  We 
are  fairly  puzzled  by  his  manner  of  mixing  up  real  and  im- 
aginary persons;  his  boy  John  Clement  and  Peter  Giles,  the 
citizen  of  Antwerp,  with  whom  he  disputes  about  the  precise 
words  which  are  supposed  to  have  been  used  by  the  (imagi- 
nary) Portuguese  traveller,  Raphael  Hythloday.  ‘‘  I have  the 

> “ Howbeit.  I think  this  was  no  small  help  and  furtherance  in  the  matter,  that  they 
heard  us  say  that  Christ  instituted  among  his,  all  things  common,  and  that  the  same  com- 
munity doth  yet  remain  in  the  rightest  Christian  communities.”— “Utopia,”  English  Re- 
prints, p.  144. 

2 “These  things  (I  say),  when  I consider  with  myself,  I bold  well  with  Plato,  and  do 
nothing  marvel  that  he  would  make  no  laws  for  them  that  t^hise  those  laws,  whereby  all 
men  should  have  and  enjoy  equal  portions  of  riches  and  commodities.  For  the  wise  man 
did  easily  foresee  this  to  be  the  one  and  only  way  to  the  wealth  of  a community,  if 
equality  of  all  things  should  be  brought  in  and  established.”—”  Utopia,”  English  Re- 
prints, pp.  67,  68. 


Ixxxvi 


PLATO 


more  cause/’  says  Hythloday,  ‘‘  to  fear  that  my  words  shall 
not  be  believed,  for  that  I know  how  difficultly  and  hardly  I 
myself  would  have  believed  another  man  telling  the  same,  if 
I had  not  myself  seen  it  with  mine  own  eyes.”  Or  again:  “ If 
you  had  been  with  me  in  Utopia,  and  had  presently  seen  their 
fashions  and  laws  as  I did  which  lived  there  five  years  and 
more,  and  would  never  have  come  thence,  but  only  to  make 
the  new  land  known  here,”  etc.  More  greatly  regrets  that 
he  forgot  to  ask  Hythloday  in  what  part  of  the  world  Utopia 
is  situated ; he  ‘‘  would  have  spent  no  small  sum  of  money 
rather  than  it  should  have  escaped  him,”  and  he  begs  Peter 
Giles  to  see  Hythloday  or  write  to  him  and  obtain  an  answer 
to  the  question.  After  this  we  are  not  surprised  to  hear  that 
a professor  of  divinity  (perhaps  ‘‘  a late  famous  vicar  of  Croy- 
don in  Surrey,”  as  the  translator  thinks)  is  desirous  of  being 
sent  thither  as  a missionary  by  the  high-bishop,  “ yea,  and 
that  he  may  himself  be  made  Bishop  of  Utopia,  nothing  doubt- 
ing that  he  must  obtain  this  bishopric  with  suit;  and  he 
counteth  that  a godly  suit  which  proceedeth  not  of  the  desire 
of  honor  or  lucre,  but  only  of  a godly  zeal.”  The  design  may 
have  failed  through  the  disappearance  of  Hythloday,  concern- 
ing whom  we  have  ‘‘  very  uncertain  news  ” after  his  departure. 
There  is  no  doubt,  however,  that  he  had  told  More  and  Giles 
the  exact  situation  of  the  island,  but  unfortunately  at  the  same 
moment  More’s  attention,  as  he  is  reminded  in  a letter  from 
Giles,  was  drawn  ofif  by  a servant,  and  one  of  the  company 
from  a cold  caught  on  shipboard  coughed  so  loud  as  to  pre- 
vent Giles  from  hearing.  And  the  secret  has  perished  ” 
with  him ; to  this  day  the  place  of  Utopia  remains  unknown. 

The  words  of  Phaedrus  (275  B),  ‘‘ O Socrates,  you  can 
easily  invent  Egyptians  or  anything,”  are  recalled  to  our  mind 
as  we  read  this  lifelike  fiction.  Yet  the  greater  merit  of  the 
work  is  not  the  admirable  art,  but  the  originality  of  thought. 
More  is  as  free  as  Plato  from  the  prejudices  of  his  age,  and 
far  more  tolerant.  The  Utopians  do  not  allow  him  who  be- 
lieves not  in  the  immortality  of  the  soul  to  share  in  the  admin- 
istration of  the  State  (cp.  ‘"Laws”  x.  908  folk),  howbeit 
they  put  him  to  no  punishment,  because  they  be  persuaded  that 
it  is  in  no  man’s  power  to  believe  what  he  list  ” ; and  ''  no 
man  is  to  be  blamed  for  reasoning  in  support  of  his  own  re- 


TRANSLATOR’S  INTRODUCTION 


Ixxxvii 


ligion/’  ^ In  the  public  services  no  prayers  be  used,  but  such 
as  every  man  may  boldly  pronounce  without  giving  ofifence  to 
any  sect.”  He  says  significantly  (p.  143),  ‘‘There  be  that 
give  worship  to  a man  that  was  once  of  excellent  virtue  or  of 
famous  glory,  not  only  as  God,  but  also  the  chiefest  and  high- 
est God.  But  the  most  and  the  wisest  part,  rejecting  all  these, 
believe  that  there  is  a certain  godly  power  unknown,  far 
above  the  capacity  and  reach  of  man’s  wit,  dispersed  through- 
out all  the  world,  not  in  bigness,  but  in  virtue  and  power. 
Him  they  call  the  Father  of  All.  To  him  alone  they  attribute 
the  beginnings,  the  increasings,  the  proceedings,  the  changes, 
and  the  ends  of  all  things.  Neither  give  they  any  divine  hon- 
ors to  any  other  than  him.”  So  far  was  More  from  sharing 
the  popular  beliefs  of  his  time.  Yet  at  the  end  he  reminds 
us  that  he  does  not  in  all  respects  agree  with  the  customs  and 
opinions  of  the  Utopians  which  he  describes.  And  we  should 
let  him  have  the  benefit  of  this  saving  clause,  and  not  rudely 
withdraw  the  veil  behind  which  he  has  been  pleased  to  con- 
ceal himself. 

Nor  is  he  less  in  advance  of  popular  opinion  in  his  political 
and  moral  speculations.  He  would  like  to  bring  military 
glory  into  contempt;  he  would  set  all  sorts  of  idle  people  to 
profitable  occupation,  including  in  the  same  class,  priests, 
women,  noblemen,  gentlemen,  and  “ sturdy  and  valiant  beg- 
gars,” that  the  labor  of  all  may  be  reduced  to  six  hours  a day. 
His  dislike  of  capital  punishment,  and  plans  for  the  reforma- 
tion of  offenders ; his  detestation  of  priests  and  lawyers ; ^ 
his  remark  that  “ although  everyone  may  hear  of  ravenous 
dogs  and  wolves  and  cruel  man-eaters,  it  is  not  easy  to  find 
States  that  are  well  and  wisely  governed,”  are  curiously  at 
variance  with  the  notions  of  his  age  and,  indeed,  with  his  own 
life.  There  are  many  points  in  which  he  shows  a modern  feel- 
ing and  a prophetic  insight  like  Plato.  He  is  a sanitary  re- 
former ; he  maintains  that  civilized  States  have  a right  to  the 

* “ One  of  our  company  in  my  presence  was  sharply  punished.  He,  as  soon  as  he  was 
baptized,  began  against  our  wills,  with  more  earnest  affection  than  wisdom  to  reason  of 
Christ’s  religion,  and  began  to  wax  so  hot  in  this  matter,  that  he  did  not  only  prefer  our 
religion  before  all  other,  but  also  did  despise  and  condemn  all  other,  calling  them  profane, 
and  the  followers  of  them  wicked  and  devilish,  and  the  children  of  the  everlasting  damna- 
tion. When  he  had  thus  long  reasoned  the  matter,  they  laid  hold  on  him,  accused  him,  and 
condemned  him  into  exile,  not  as  a despiser  of  religion,  but  as  a seditious  person  and  a 
raiser  up  of  dissension  among  the  people  ’’  (p.  145). 

2 Compare  his  satirical  observation  : “ They  (the  Utopians)  have  priests  of  exceedin^^ 
holiness,  and  therefore  very  few  ” (p.  150), 


Ixxxviii 


PLATO 


soil  of  waste  countries;  he  is  inclined  to  the  opinion  which 
places  happiness  in  virtuous  pleasures,  but  herein,  as  he  thinks, 
not  disagreeing  from  those  other  philosophers  who  define 
virtue  to  be  a life  according  to  nature.  He  extends  the  idea 
of  happiness  so  as  to  include  the  happiness  of  others;  and 
he  argues  ingeniously,  All  men  agree  that  we  ought  to  make 
others  happy ; but  if  others,  how  much  more  ourselves ! 
And  still  he  thinks  that  there  may  be  a more  excellent  way, 
but  to  this  no  man’s  reason  can  attain  unless  heaven  should 
inspire  him  with  a higher  truth.  His  ceremonies  before  mar- 
riage; his  humane  proposal  that  war  should  be  carried  on 
by  assassinating  the  leaders  of  the  enemy,  may  be  compared 
to  some  of  the  paradoxes  of  Plato.  He  has  a charming  fancy, 
like  the  affinities  of  Greeks  and  barbarians  in  the  Timaeus,” 
that  the  Utopians  learned  the  language  of  the  Greeks  with  the 
more  readiness  because  they  were  originally  of  the  same  race 
with  them.  He  is  penetrated  with  the  spirit  of  Plato,  and 
quotes  or  adapts  many  thoughts  both  from  the  Republic  ’’ 
and  from  the  Timseus.”  He  prefers  public  duties  to  private, 
and  is  somewhat  impatient  of  the  importunity  of  relations. 
His  citizens  have  no  silver  or  gold  of  their  own,  but  are  ready 
enough  to  pay  them  to  their  mercenaries  (cp.  Rep.”  iv.  422, 
423).  There  is  nothing  of  which  he  is  more  contemptuous 
than  the  love  of  money.  Gold  is  used  for  fetters  of  criminals, 
and  diamonds  and  pearls  for  children’s  necklaces.^ 

Like  Plato  he  is  full  of  satirical  reflections  on  governments 
and  princes;  on  the  state  of  the  world  and  of  knowledge. 
The  hero  of  his  discourse  (Hythloday)  is  very  unwilling  to 
become  a minister  of  state,  considering  that  he  would  lose  his 
independence,  and  his  advice  would  never  be  heeded,^  He 
ridicules  the  new  logic  of  his  time ; the  Utopians  could  never 
be  made  to  understand  the  doctrine  of  Second  Intentions.®  He 

1 When  the  ambassadors  came  arrayed  in  gold  and  peacocks’  feathers,  “ to  the  eyes  of 
all  the  Utopians  except  very  few,  which  had  been  in  other  countries  for  some  reasonable 
cause,  all  that  gorgeousness  of  apparel  seemed  shameful  and  reproachful.  In  so  much 
that  they  most  reverently  saluted  the  vilest  and  most  abject  of  them  for  lords — passing 
over  the  ambassadors  themselves  without  any  honor,  judging  them  by  their  wearing  of 
golden  chains  to  be  bondmen.  You  should  have  seen  children  also,  that  have  cast  away 
their  pearls  and  precious  stones,  when  they  saw  the  like  sticking  upon  the  ambassador’s 
caps,  dig  and  push  their  mothers  under  the  sides,  saying  thus  to  them — ‘ Look,  mother, 
how  great  a lubber  doth  yet  wear  pearls  and  precious  stones,  as  though  he  were  a little 
child  still.’  But  the  mother ; yea  and  that  also  in  good  earnest ; ‘ Peace,  son,*  saith  she, 
* I think  he  be  some  of  the  ambassadors’  fools  ’ ” (p.  102). 

2 Cp.  an  exquisite  passage  at  p.  35,  of  which  the  conclusion  is  as  follows  : “ And  verily 

it  is  naturally  given  . . . suppressed  and  ended.” 

* ” For  they  have  not  devised  one  of  all  those  rules  of  restrictions,  amplifications,  and 


TRANSLATOR'S  INTRODUCTION 


Ixxxix 


is  very  severe  on  the  sports  of  the  gentry ; the  Utopians  count 

hunting  the  lowest,  the  vilest,  and  the  most  abject  part  of 
butchery/’  He  quotes  the  words  of  the  “ Republic  ” in  which 
the  philosopher  is  described  standing  out  of  the  way  under 
a wall  until  the  driving  storm  of  sleet  and  rain  be  overpast,” 
which  admit  of  a singular  application  to  More’s  own  fate; 
although,  writing  twenty  years  before  (about  the  year  1514), 
he  can  hardly  be  supposed  to  have  foreseen  this.  There  is 
no  touch  of  satire  which  strikes  deeper  than  his  quiet  remark 
that  the  greater  part  of  the  precepts  of  Christ  are  more  at 
variance  with  the  lives  of  ordinary  Christians  than  the  dis- 
course of  Utopia.^ 

The  ‘‘  New  Atlantis  ” is  only  a fragment,  and  far  inferior 
in  merit  to  the  Utopia.”  The  work  is  full  of  ingenuity,  but 
wanting  in  creative  fancy,  and  by  no  means  impresses  the 
reader  with  a sense  of  credibility.  In  some  places  Lord  Bacon 
is  characteristically  different  from  Sir  Thomas  More,  as,  for 
example,  in  the  external  state  which  he  attributes  to  the  gov- 
ernor of  Salomon’s  House,  whose  dress  he  minutely  describes, 
while  to  Sir  Thomas  More  such  trappings  appear  simply 
ridiculous.  Yet,  after  this  program  of  dress,  Bacon  adds 
the  beautiful  trait,  that  he  had  a look  as  though  he  pitied 
men.”  Several  things  are  borrowed  by  him  from  the 
‘‘Timaeus”;  but  he  has  injured  the  unity  of  style  by  adding 
thoughts  and  passages  which  are  taken  from  the  Hebrew 
Scriptures. 

The  ‘‘  City  of  the  Sun,”  written  by  Campanella  (1568-1639), 
a Dominican  friar,  several  years  after  the  ‘‘  New  Atlantis  ” 
of  Bacon,  has  many  resemblances  to  the  Republic  ” of  Plato. 
The  citizens  have  wives  and  children  in  common;  their  mar- 
riages are  of  the  same  temporary  sort,  and  are  arranged  by 
the  magistrates  from  time  to  time.  They  do  not,  however, 
adopt  his  system  of  lots,  but  bring  together  the  best  natures, 
male  and  female,  according  to  philosophical  rules.”  The 

suppositions,  very  wittily  invented  in  the  small  logicals,  which  here  our  children  in  every 
place  do  learn.  Furthermore,  they  were  never  yet  able  to  find  out  the  second  intentions ; 
insomuch  that  none  of  them  all  could  ever  see  man  himself  in  common,  as  they  call  him, 
though  he  be  (as  you  know)  bigger  than  was  ever  any  giant,  yea,  and  pointed  to  us  even 
with  our  finger  ” (p.  105). 

1 “ And  yet  the  most  part  of  them  is  more  dissident  from  the  manners  of  the  world  now- 
adays than  my  communication  was.  But  preachers,  sly  and  wily  men,  following  your 
counsel  (as  I suppose)  because  they  saw  men  evil-willing  to  frame  their  manners  to 
Christ’s  rule,  they  have  wrested  and  wried  h'  doctrine,  and,  like  a rule  of  lead,  have  ap- 
plied, it  to  men’s  manners,  that  by  some  means  at  the  least  way,  they  might  agree  to- 
gether ” (p.  66). 


xc 


PLATO 


infants  until  two  years  of  age  are  brought  up  by  their  mothers 
in  public  temples;  and  since  individuals  for  the  most  part 
educate  their  children  badly,  at  the  beginning  of  their  third 
year  they  are  committed  to  the  care  of  the  State,  and  are 
taught  at  first,  not  out  of  books,  but  from  paintings  of  all 
kinds,  which  are  emblazoned  on  the  walls  of  the  city.  The 
city  has  six  interior  circuits  of  walls,  and  an  outer  wall  which 
is  the  seventh.  On  this  outer  wall  are  painted  the  figures  of 
legislators  and  philosophers,  and  on  each  of  the  interior  walls 
the  symbols  or  forms  of  some  one  of  the  sciences  are  deline- 
ated. The  women  are,  for  the  most  part,  trained,  like  the 
men,  in  warlike  and  other  exercises ; but  they  have  two  special 
occupations  of  their  own.  After  a battle,  they  and  the  boys 
soothe  and  relieve  the  wounded  warriors ; also  they  encourage 
them  with  embraces  and  pleasant  words  (cp.  Plato  Rep.’’  v. 
468).  Some  elements  of  the  Christian  or  Catholic  religion 
are  preserved  among  them.  The  life  of  the  apostles  is  greatly 
admired  by  this  people  because  they  had  all  things  in  com- 
mon; and  the  short  prayer  which  Jesus  Christ  taught  men 
is  used  in  their  worship.  It  is  a duty  of  the  chief  magistrates 
to  pardon  sins,  and  therefore  the  whole  people  make  secret 
confession  of  them  to  the  magistrates,  and  they  to  their  chief, 
who  is  a sort  of  Rector  Metaphysicus ; and  by  this  means 
he  is  well  informed  of  all  that  is  going  on  in  the  minds  of 
men.  After  confession,  absolution  is  granted  to  the  citizens 
collectively,  but  no  one  is  mentioned  by  name.  There  also 
exists  among  them  a practice  of  perpetual  prayer,  performed 
by  a succession  of  priests,  who  change  every  hour.  Their 
religion  is  a worship  of  God  in  trinity,  that  is  of  Wisdom, 
Love,  and  Power,  but  without  any  distinction  of  persons. 
They  behold  in  the  sun  the  reflection  of  his  glory;  mere 
graven  images  they  reject,  refusing  to  fall  under  the  ‘‘  tyr- 
anny of  idolatry. 

Many  details  are  given  about  their  customs  of  eating  and 
drinking,  about  their  mode  of  dressing,  their  employments, 
their  wars.  Campanella  looks  forward  to  a new  mode  of  edu- 
cation, which  is  to  be  a study  of  nature,  and  not  of  Aristotle. 
He  would  not  have  his  citizens  waste  their  time  in  the  con- 
sideration of  what  he  calls  the  dead  signs  of  things.’’  He 
remarks  that  he  who  knows  one  science  only,  does  not  really 


TRANSLATOR’S  INTRODUCTION  xci 

know  that  one  any  more  than  the  rest,  and  insists  strongly 
on  the  necessity  of  a variety  of  knowledge.  More  scholars 
are  turned  out  in  the  City  of  the  Sun  in  one  year  than  by 
contemporary  methods  in  ten  or  fifteen.  He  evidently  be- 
lieves, like  Bacon,  that  henceforward  natural  science  will  play 
a great  part  in  education,  a hope  which  seems  hardly  to  have 
been  realized,  either  in  our  own  or  in  any  former  age;  at 
any  rate  the  fulfilment  of  it  has  been  long  deferred. 

There  is  a good  deal  of  ingenuity  and  even  originality  in 
this  work,  and  a most  enlightened  spirit  pervades  it.  But  it 
has  little  or  no  charm  of  style,  and  falls  very  far  short  of 
the  ''  New  Atlantis  ’’  of  Bacon,  and  still  more  of  the  ‘‘  Utopia 
of  Sir  Thomas  More.  It  is  full  of  inconsistencies,  and  though 
borrowed  from  Plato,  shows  but  a superficial  acquaintance 
with  his  writings.  It  is  a work  such  as  one  might  expect  to 
have  been  written  by  a philosopher  and  man  of  genius  who 
was  also  a friar,  and  who  had  spent  twenty-seven  years  of  his 
life  in  a prison  of  the  Inquisition.  The  most  interesting  feature 
of  the  book,  common  to  Plato  and  Sir  Thomas  More,  is. the 
deep  feeling  which  is  shown  by  the  writer,  of  the  misery  and 
ignorance  prevailing  among  the  lower  classes  in  his  own 
time.  Campanella  takes  note  of  Aristotle's  answer  to  Plato's 
community  of  property,  that  in  a society  where  all  things  are 
common,  no  individual  would  have  any  motive  to  work  (Arist. 
‘‘  Pol."  ii.  5,  § 6)  ; he  replies  that  his  citizens  being  happy 
and  contented  in  themselves  (they  are  required  to  work  only 
four  hours  a day),  will  have  greater  regard  for  their  fellows 
than  exists  among  men  at  present.  He  thinks,  like  Plato,  that 
if  he  abolishes  private  feelings  and  interests,  a great  public 
feeling  will  take  their  place. 

Other  writings  on  ideal  States,  such  as  the  Oceana  " of 
Harrington,  in  which  the  Lord  Archon,  meaning  Cromwell, 
is  described,  not  as  he  was,  but  as  he  ought  to  have  been ; or 
the  ‘‘  Argenis  " of  Barclay,  which  is  a historical  allegory  of 
his  own  time,  are  too  unlike  Plato  to  be  worth  mentioning. 
More  interesting  than  either  of  these,  and  far  more  Platonic 
in  style  and  thought,  is  Sir  John  Eliot's  Monarchy  of  Man," 
in  which  the  prisoner  of  the  Tower,  no  longer  able  to  be  a 
politician  in  the  land  of  his  birth,"  turns  away  from  politics 
to  view  that  other  city  which  is  within  him,"  and  finds  on 


XCll 


PLATO 


the  very  threshold  of  the  grave  that  the  secret  of  human  hap- 
piness is  the  mastery  of  self.  The  change  of  government  in 
the  time  of  the  English  Commonwealth  set  men  thinking 
about  first  principles,  and  gave  rise  to  many  works  of  this 
class.  . . . The  great  original  genius  of  Swift  owes  noth- 

ing to  Plato;  nor  is  there  any  trace  in  the  conversation  or 
in  the  works  of  Dr.  Johnson  of  any  acquaintance  with  his 
writings.  He  probably  would  have  refuted  Plato  without 
reading  him,  in  the  same  fashion  in  which  he  supposed  him- 
self to  have  refuted  Bishop  Berkeley's  theory  of  the  non- 
existence of  matter.  If  we  except  the  so-called  English  Plat- 
onists,  or  rather  Neo-Platonists,  who  never  understood  their 
master,  and  the  writings  of  Coleridge,  who  was  to  some  ex- 
tent a kindred  spirit,  Plato  has  left  no  permanent  impression 
on  English  literature. 

VIL  Human  life  and  conduct  are  affected  by  ideals  in  the 
same  way  that  they  are  affected  by  the  examples  of  eminent 
men.  Neither  the  one  nor  the  other  is  immediately  applicable 
to  practice,  but  there  is  a virtue  flowing  from  them  which 
tends  to  raise  individuals  above  the  common  routine  of  so- 
ciety or  trade,  and  to  elevate  States  above  the  mere  interests 
of  commerce  or  the  necessities  of  self-defence.  Like  the  ideals 
of  art  they  are  partly  framed  by  the  omission  of  particulars; 
they  require  to  be  viewed  at  a certain  distance,  and  are  apt 
to  fade  away  if  we  attempt  to  approach  them.  They  gain 
an  imaginary  distinctness  when  embodied  in  a State  or  in  a 
system  of  philosophy,  but  they  still  remain  the  visions  of  a 
world  unrealized."  More  striking  and  obvious  to  the  ordinary 
mind  are  the  examples  of  great  men,  who  have  served  their 
own  generation  and  are  remembered  in  another.  Even  in  our 
own  family  circle  there  may  have  been  someone,  a woman, 
or  even  a child,  in  whose  face  has  shone  forth  a goodness  more 
than  human.  The  ideal  then  approaches  nearer  to  us,  and 
we  fondly  cling  to  it.  The  ideal  of  the  past,  whether  of  our 
own  past  lives  or  of  former  states  of  society,  has  a singular  fas- 
cination for  the  minds  of  many.  Too  late  we  learn  that  such 
ideals  cannot  be  recalled,  though  the  recollection  of  them  may 
have  a humanizing  influence  on  other  times.  But  the  abstrac- 
tions of  philosophy  are  to  most  persons  cold  and  vacant ; they 
give  light  without  warmth;  they  are  like  the  full  moon  in 


TRANSLATOR’S  INTRODUCTION  xciii 

the  heavens  when  there  are  no  stars  appearing.  Men  cannot 
live  by  thought  alone;  the  world  of  sense  is  always  breaking 
in  upon  them.  They  are  for  the  most  part  confined  to  a cor- 
ner of  earth,  and  see  but  a little  way  beyond  their  own  home 
or  place  of  abode ; they  ‘‘  do  not  lift  up  their  eyes  to  the 
hills  ’’ ; they  are  not  awake  when  the  dawn  appears.  But  in 
Plato  we  have  reached  a height  from  which  a man  may  look 
into  the  distance  Rep.’’  iv.  445  C)  and  behold  the  future 
of  the  world  and  of  philosophy.  The  ideal  of  the  State  and 
of  the  life  of  the  philosopher;  the  ideal  of  an  education  con- 
tinuing through  life  and  extending  equally  to  both  sexes; 
the  ideal  of  the  unity  and  correlation  of  knowledge ; the  faith 
in  good  and  immortality — are  the  vacant  forms  of  light  on 
which  Plato  is  seeking  to  fix  the  eye  of  mankind. 

VIII.  Two  other  ideals,  which  never  appeared  above  the 
horizon  in  Greek  philosophy,  float  before  the  minds  of  men 
in  our  own  day:  one  seen  more  clearly  than  formerly,  as 
though  each  year  and  each  generation  brought  us  nearer  to 
some  great  change ; the  other  almost  in  the  same  degree  retir- 
ing from  view  behind  the  laws  of  nature,  as  if  oppressed  by 
them,  but  still  remaining  a silent  hope  of  we  know  not  what 
hidden  in  the  heart  of  man.  The  first  ideal  is  the  future  of 
the  human  race  in  this  world;  the  second  the  future  of  the 
individual  in  another.  The  first  is  the  more  perfect  realiza- 
tion of  our  own  present  life;  the  second,  the  abnegation  of 
it:  the  one,  limited  by  experience,  the  other,  transcending  it. 
Both  of  them  have  been  and  are  powerful  motives  of  action j 
there  are  a few  in  whom  they  have  taken  the  place  of  all 
earthly  interests.  The  hope  of  a future  for  the  human  race 
at  first  sight  seems  to  be  the  more  disinterested,  the  hope  of 
individual  existence  the  more  egotistical,  of  the  two  motives. 
But  when  men  have  learned  to  resolve  their  hope  of  a future 
either  for  themselves  or  for  the  world  into  the  will  of  God 
— not  my  will,  but  thine,”  the  difference  between  them  falls 
away;  and  they  may  be  allowed  to  make  either  of  them  the 
basis  of  their  lives,  according  to  their  own  individual  charac- 
ter or  temperament.  There  is  as  much  faith  in  the  willing- 
ness to  work  for  an  unseen  future  in  this  world  as  in  an- 
other. Neither  is  it  inconceivable  that  some  rare  nature  may 
feel  his  duty  to  another  generation,  or  to  another  century,  al- 


XCIV 


PLATO 


most  as  strongly  as  to  his  own,  or  that,  living  always  in  the 
presence  of  God,  he  may  realize  another  world  as  vividly  as 
he  does  this. 

The  greatest  of  all  ideals  may,  or  rather  must  be  conceived 
by  us  under  similitudes  derived  from  human  qualities ; al- 
though sometimes,  like  the  Jewish  prophets,  we  may  dash 
away  these  figures  of  speech  and  describe  the  nature  of  God 
only  in  negatives.  These  again  by  degrees  acquire  a posi- 
tive meaning.  It  would  be  well  if,  when  meditating  on  the 
higher  truths  either  of  philosophy  or  religion,  we  sometimes 
substituted  one  form  of  expression  for  another,  lest  through 
the  necessities  of  language  we  should  become  the  slaves  of 
mere  words. 

There  is  a third  ideal,  not  the  same,  but  akin  to  these,  which 
has  a place  in  the  home  and  heart  of  every  believer  in  the 
religion  of  Christ,  and  in  which  men  seem  to  find  a nearer 
and  more  familiar  truth,  the  Divine  man,  the  Son  of  Man, 
the  Saviour  of  mankind,  who  is  the  first-born  and  head  of 
the  whole  family  in  heaven  and  earth,  in  whom  the  divine  and 
human,  that  which  is  without  and  that  which  is  within  the 
range  of  our  earthly  faculties,  are  indissolubly  united.  Neither 
is  this  divine  form  of  goodness  wholly  separable  from  the 
ideal  of  the  Christian  Church,  which  is  said  in  the  New  Testa- 
ment to  be  ‘‘  his  body,’’  or  at  variance  with  those  other  images 
of  good  which  Plato  sets  before  us.  We  see  him  in  a figure 
only,  and  of  figures  of  speech  we  select  but  a few,  and  those 
the  simplest,  to  be  the  expression  of  him.  We  behold  him 
in  a picture,  but  he  is  not  there.  We  gather  up  the  fragments 
of  his  discourses,  but  neither  do  they  represent  him  as  he 
truly  was.  His  dwelling  is  neither  in  heaven  nor  earth,  but 
in  the  heart  of  man.  This  is  that  image  which  Plato  saw 
dimly  in  the  distance,  which,  when  existing  among  men,  he 
called,  in  the  language  of  Homer,  the  likeness  of  God  ” 
(‘‘Rep.”  vi.  501  B),  the  likeness  of  a nature  which  in  all 
ages  men  have  felt  to  be  greater  and  better  than  themselves, 
and  which  in  endless  forms,  whether  derived  from  Scripture 
or  nature,  from  the  witness  of  history  or  from  the  human 
heart,  regarded  as  a person  or  not  as  a person,  with  or  with- 
out parts  or  passions,  existing  in  space  or  riot  in  space,  is 
and  will  always  continue  to  be  to  mankind  the  Idea  of  Good. 

B.  J. 


THE  REPUBLIC 


BOOK  1 

OF  WEALTH,  JUSTICE,  MODERATION,  AND  THEIR 
OPPOSITES 


PERSONS  OF  THE  DIALOGUE 


Socrates,  who  is  the  narrator. 
Glaucon. 

Adeimantus. 

POLEMARCHUS. 


Cephalus. 

Thrasymachus. 

Cleitophon. 


And  others  who  are  mute  auditors. 


The  scene  is  laid  in  the  house  of  Cephalus  at  the  Piraeus ; and  the  whole  dia- 
logue is  narrated  by  Socrates  the  day  after  it  actually  took  place  to  Timaeus 
Hermocrates,  Critias,  and  a nameless  person,  who  are  introduced  in  the 
Timaeus. 

I WENT  down  yesterday  to  the  Piraeus  with  Glaucon,  the 
son  of  Ariston,  that  I might  offer  up  my  prayers  to  the 
goddess ; ^ and  also  because  I wanted  to  see  in  what  man- 
ner they  would  celebrate  the  festival,  which  was  a new  thing. 
I was  delighted  with  the  procession  of  the  inhabitants;  but 
that  of  the  Thracians  was  equally,  if  not  more,  beautiful. 
When  we  had  finished  our  prayers  and  viewed  the  spectacle, 
we  turned  in  the  direction  of  the  city;  and  at  that  instant 
Polemarchus,  the  son  of  Cephalus,  chanced  to  catch  sight  of 
us  from  a distance  as  we  were  starting  on  our  way  home,  and 
told  his  servant  to  run  and  bid  us  wait  for  him.  The  servant 
took  hold  of  me  by  the  cloak  behind,  and  said,  Polemarchus 
desires  you  to  wait. 

I turned  round,  and  asked  him  where  his  master  was. 

There  he  is,  said  the  youth,  coming  after  you,  if  you  will 
only  wait. 


* Bendis,  the  Thracian  Artemis. 


2 


PLATO 


Certainly  we  will,  said  Glaucon;  and  in  a few  minutes 
Polemarchus  appeared,  and  with  him  Adeimantus,  Glaucon's 
brother,  Niceratus,  the  son  of  Nicias,  and  several  others  who 
had  been  at  the  procession. 

Polemarchus  said  to  me,  I perceive,  Socrates,  that  you  and 
your  companion  are  already  on  your  way  to  the  city. 

You  are  not  far  wrong,  I said. 

But  do  you  see,  he  rejoined,  how  many  we  are? 

Of  course. 

And  are  you  stronger  than  all  these?  for  if  not,  you  will 
have  to  remain  where  you  are. 

May  there  not  be  the  alternative,  I said,  that  we  may  per- 
suade you  to  let  us  go? 

But  can  you  persuade  us,  if  we  refuse  to  listen  to  you?  he 
said. 

Certainly  not,  replied  Glaucon. 

Then  we  are  not  going  to  listen ; of  that  you  may  be  assured. 

Adeimantus  added : Has  no  one  told  you  of  the  torch-race 
on  horseback  in  honor  of  the  goddess  which  will  take  place 
in  the  evening? 

With  horses ! I replied.  That  is  a novelty.  Will  horsemen 
carry  torches  and  pass  them  one  to  another  during  the  race? 

Yes,  said  Polemarchus;  and  not  only  so,  but  a festival  will 
be  celebrated  at  night,  which  you  certainly  ought  to  see.  Let 
us  rise  soon  after  supper  and  see  this  festival;  there  will  be 
a gathering  of  young  men,  and  we  will  have  a good  talk. 
Stay  then,  and  do  not  be  perverse. 

Glaucon  said,  I suppose,  since  you  insist,  that  we  must. 

Very  good,  I replied. 

Accordingly  we  went  with  Polemarchus  to  his  house;  and 
there  we  found  his  brothers  Lysias  and  Euthydemus,  and 
with  them  Thrasymachus  the  Chalcedonian,  Charmantides  the 
Paeanian,  and  Cleitophon,  the  son  of  Aristonymus.  There  too 
was  Cephalus,  the  father  of  Polemarchus,  whom  I had  not  seen 
for  a long  time,  and  I thought  him  very  much  aged.  He  was 
seated  on  a cushioned  chair,  and  had  a garland  on  his  head, 
for  he  had  been  sacrificing  in  the  court ; and  there  were  some 
other  chairs  in  the  room  arranged  in  a semicircle,  upon  which 
we  sat  down  by  him.  He  saluted  me  eagerly,  and  then  he  said : 

You  don’t  come  to  see  me,  Socrates,  as  often  as  you  ought: 


THE  REPUBLIC 


3 


If  I were  still  able  to  go  and  see  you  I would  not  ask  you  to 
come  to  me.  But  at  my  age  I can  hardly  get  to  the  city,  and 
therefore  you  should  come  oftener  to  the  Piraeus.  For,  let 
me  tell  you  that  the  more  the  pleasures  of  the  body  fade  away, 
the  greater  to  me  are  the  pleasure  and  charm  of  conversation. 
Do  not,  then,  deny  my  request,  but  make  our  house  your  re- 
sort and  keep  company  with  these  young  men;  we  are  old 
friends,  and  you  will  be  quite  at  home  with  us. 

I replied:  There  is  nothing  which  for  my  part  I like  bet- 
ter, Cephalus,  than  conversing  with  aged  men;  for  I regard 
them  as  travellers  who  have  gone  a journey  which  I too  may 
have  to  go,  and  of  whom  I ought  to  inquire  whether  the  way 
is  smooth  and  easy  or  rugged  and  difficult.  And  this  is  a 
question  which  I should  like  to  ask  of  you,  who  have  arrived 
at  that  time  which  the  poets  call  the  threshold  of  old  age  ’’ : 
Is  life  harder  toward  the  end,  or  what  report  do  you  give  of  it  ? 

I will  tell  you,  Socrates,  he  said,  what  my  own  feeling  is. 
Men  of  my  age  flock  together;  we  are  birds  of  a feather,  as 
the  old  proverb  says;  and  at  our  meetings  the  tale  of  my 
acquaintance  commonly  is : I cannot  eat,  I cannot  drink ; the 
pleasures  of  youth  and  love  are  fled  away;  there  was  a good 
time  once,  but  now  that  is  gone,  and  life  is  no  longer  life. 
Some  complain  of  the  slights  which  are  put  upon  them  by 
relations,  and  they  will  tell  you  sadly  of  how  many  evils  their 
old  age  is  the  cause.  But  to  me,  Socrates,  these  complainers 
seem  to  blame  that  which  is  not  really  in  fault.  For  if  old 
age  were  the  cause,  I too,  being  old,  and  every  other  old  man 
would  have  felt  as  they  do.  But  this  is  not  my  own  experi- 
ence, nor  that  of  others  whom  I have  known.  How  well  I 
remember  the  aged  poet  Sophocles,  when  in  answer  to  the 
question,  How  does  love  suit  with  age,  Sophocles — are  you 
still  the  man  you  were?  Peace,  he  replied;  most  gladly  have 
I escaped  the  thing  of  which  you  speak;  I feel  as  if  I had 
escaped  from  a mad  and  furious  master.  His  words  have 
often  occurred  to  my  mind  since,  and  they  seem  as  good  to 
me  now  as  at  the  time  when  he  uttered  them.  For  certainly 
old  age  has  a great  sense  of  calm  and  freedom ; when  the  pas- 
sions relax  their  hold,  then,  as  Sophocles  says,  we  are  freed 
from  the  grasp  not  of  one  mad  master  only,  but  of  many. 
The  truth  is,  Socrates,  that  these  regrets,  and  also  the  com- 


4 


PLATO 


plaints  about  relations,  are  to  be  attributed  to  the  same  cause,, 
which  is  not  old  age,  but  men’s  characters  and  tempers;  for 
he  who  is  of  a calm  and  happy  nature  will  hardly  feel  the 
pressure  of  age,  but  to  him  who  is  of  an  opposite  disposition 
youth  and  age  are  equally  a burden. 

I listened  in  admiration,  and  wanting  to  draw  him  out,  that 
he  might  go  on — Yes,  Cephalus,  I said;  but  I rather  suspect 
that  people  in  general  are  not  convinced  by  you  when  you 
speak  thus ; they  think  that  old  age  sits  lightly  upon  you,  not 
because  of  your  happy  disposition,  but  because  you  are  rich, 
and  wealth  is  well  known  to  be  a great  comforter. 

You  are  right,  he  replied;  they  are  not  convinced:  and 
there  is  something  in  what  they  say ; not,  however,  so  much 
as  they  imagine.  I might  ansv/er  them  as  Themistocles  an- 
swered the  Seriphian  who  was  abusing  him  and  saying  that 
he  was  famous,  not  for  his  own  merits  but  because  he  was 
an  Athenian : If  you  had  been  a native  of  my  country  or 
I of  yours,  neither  of  us  would  have  been  famous.”  And  to 
those  who  are  not  rich  and  are  impatient  of  old  age,  the  same 
reply  may  be  made;  for  to  the  good  poor  man  old  age  can- 
not be  a light  burden,  nor  can  a bad  rich  man  ever  have  peace 
with  himself. 

May  I ask,  Cephalus,  whether  your  fortune  was  for  the  most 
part  inherited  or  acquired  by  you  ? 

Acquired!  Socrates;  do  you  want  to  k 
acquired?  In  the  art  of  making  money  I 
between  my  father  and  grandfather:  foi 

whose  name  I bear,  doubled  and  trebled  the  111C3  pctLll— 

mony,  that  which  he  inherited  being  much  what  I possess  now ; 
but  my  father,  Lysanias,  reduced  the  property  below  what  it 
is  at  present;  and  I shall  be  satisfied  if  I leave  to  these  my 
sons  not  less,  but  a little  more,  than  I received. 

That  was  why  I asked  you  the  question,  I replied,  because 
I see  that  you  are  indifferent  about  money,  which  is  a charac- 
teristic rather  of  those  who  have  inherited  their  fortunes  than  of 
those  who  have  acquired  them;  the  makers  of  fortunes  have  a 
second  love  of  money  as  a creation  of  their  own,  resembling  the 
affection  of  authors  for  their  ov/n  poems,  or  of  parents  for  their 
children,  besides  that  natural  love  of  it  for  the  sake  of  use 
and  profit  which  is  common  to  them  and  all  men.  And  hence 


THE  REPUBLIC 


3 

they  are  very  bad  company,  for  they  can  talk  about  nothing 
but  the  praises  of  wealth. 

That  is  true,  he  said. 

Yes,  that  is  very  true,  but  may  I ask  another  question? — 
What  do  you  consider  to  be  the  greatest  blessing  which  you 
have  reaped  from  your  wealth  ? 

One,  he  said,  of  which  I could  not  expect  easily  to  convince 
others.  For  let  me  tell  you,  Socrates,  that  when  a man  thinks 
himself  to  be  near  death,  fears  and  cares  enter  into  his  mind 
which  he  never  had  before ; the  tales  of  a world  below  and  the 
punishment  which  is  exacted  there  of  deeds  done  here  were 
once  a laughing  matter  to  him,  but  now  he  is  tormented  with 
the  thought  that  they  may  be  true : either  from  the  weakness  of 
age,  or  because  he  is  now  drawing  nearer  to  that  other  place, 
he  has  a clearer  view  of  these  things;  suspicions  and  alarms 
crowd  thickly  upon  him^  and  he  begins  to  reflect  and  consider 
what  wrongs  he  has  done  to  others.  And  when  he  finds  that 
the  sum  of  his  transgressions  is  great  he  will  many  a time  like 
a child  start  up  in  his  sleep  for  fear,  and  he  is  filled  with  dark 
forebodings.  But  to  him  who  is  conscious  of  no  sin,  sweet 
hope,  as  Pindar  charmingly  says,  is  the  kind  nurse  of  his  age : 

Hope/’  he  says,  cherishes  the  soul  of  him  who  lives  in  justice  and 
holiness,  and  is  the  nurse  of  his  age  and  the  companion  of  his  journey — 
hope  which  is  mightiest  to  sway  the  restless  soul  of  man.  ” 

How  admirable  are  his  words!  And  the  great  blessing  of 
riches,  I do  not  say  to  every  man,  but  to  a good  man,  is,  that  he 
has  had  no  occasion  to  deceive  or  to  defraud  others,  either  in- 
tentionally or  unintentionally ; and  when  he  departs  to  the  world 
below  he  is  not  in  any  apprehension  about  offerings  due  to  the 
gods  or  debts  which  he  owes  to  men.  Now  to  this  peace  of 
mind  the  possession  of  wealth  greatly  contributes;  and  there- 
fore I say,  that,  setting  one  thing  against  another,  of  the  many 
advantages  which  wealth  has  to  give^  to  a man  of  sense  this  is 
in  my  opinion  the  greatest. 

Well  said,  Cephalus,  I replied;  but  as  concerning  justice, 
what  is  it  ? — ^to  speak  the  truth  and  to  pay  your  debts — no  more 
than  this?  And  even  to  this  are  there  not  exceptions?  Sup- 
pose that  a friend  when  in  his  right  mind  has  deposited  arms 
with  me  and  he  asks  for  them  when  he  is  not  in  his  right  mind, 


6 


PLATO 


ought  I to  give  them  back  to  him?  No  one  would  say  that  I 
ought  or  that  I should  be  right  in  doing  so,  any  more  than 
they  would  say  that  I ought  always  to  speak  the  truth  to  one 
who  is  in  his  condition. 

You  are  quite  right,  he  replied. 

But  then,  I said,  speaking  the  truth  and  paying  your  debts 
is  not  a correct  definition  of  justice. 

Quite  correct,  Socrates,  if  Simonides  is  to  be  believed,  said 
Polemarchus,  interposing. 

I fear,  said  Cephalus,  that  I must  go  now,  for  I have  to  look 
after  the  sacrifices,  and  I hand  over  the  argument  to  Polem- 
archus and  the  company. 

Is  not  Polemarchus  your  heir?  I said. 

To  be  sure,  he  answered,  and  went  away  laughing  to  the  sac- 
rifices. 

Tell  me  then,  O thou  heir  of  the  argument,  what  did  Simon- 
ides say,  and  according  to  you,  truly  say,  about  justice? 

He  said  that  the  repayment  of  a debt  is  just,  and  in  saying 
so  he  appears  to  me  to  be  right. 

I shall  be  sorry  to  doubt  the  word  of  such  a wise  and  inspired 
man,  but  his  meaning,  though  probably  clear  to  you,  is  the  re- 
verse of  clear  to  me.  For  he  certainly  does  not  mean,  as  we 
were  just  now  saying,  that  I ought  to  return  a deposit  of  arms 
or  of  anything  else  to  one  who  asks  for  it  when  he  is  not  in  his 
right  senses ; and  yet  a deposit  cannot  be  denied  to  be  a debt. 

True. 

Then  when  the  person  who  asks  me  is  not  in  his  right  mind  I 
am  by  no  means  to  make  the  return  ? 

Certainly  not. 

When  Simonides  said  that  the  repayment  of  a debt  was  jus- 
tice, he  did  not  mean  to  include  that  case? 

Certainly  not;  for  he  thinks  that  a friend  ought  always  to 
to  good  to  a friend,  and  never  evil. 

You  mean  that  the  return  of  a deposit  of  gold  which  is  to 
the  injury  of  the  receiver,  if  the  two  parties  are  friends,  is  not 
the  repayment  of  a debt — that  is  what  you  would  imagine  him 
to  say  ? 

Yes. 

And  are  enemies  also  to  receive  what  we  owe  to  them  ? 

To  be  sure,  he  said,  they  are  to  receive  what  we  owe  them ; 


THE  REPUBLIC 


7 

and  an  enemy,  as  I take  it,  owes  to  an  enemy  that  which  is  due 
or  proper  to  him — that  is  to  say,  evil. 

Simonides,  then,  after  the  manner  of  poets,  would  seem  to 
have  spoken  darkly  of  the  nature  of  justice;  for  he  really  meant 
to  say  that  justice  is  the  giving  to  each  man  what  is  proper  to 
him,  and  this  he  termed  a debt. 

That  must  have  been  his  meaning,  he  said. 

By  heaven ! I replied ; and  if  we  asked  him  what  due  or  proper 
thing  is  given  by  medicine,  and  to  whom,  what  answer  do  you 
think  that  he  would  make  to  us  ? 

He  would  surely  reply  that  medicine  gives  drugs  and  meat 
and  drink  to  human  bodies. 

And  what  due  or  proper  thing  is  given  by  cookery,  and  to 
what? 

Seasoning  to  food. 

And  what  is  that  which  justice  gives,  and  to  whom? 

If,  Socrates,  we  are  to  be  guided  at  all  by  the  analogy  of  the 
preceding  instances,  then  justice  is  the  art  which  gives  good  to 
friends  and  evil  to  enefnies. 

That  is  his  meaning,  then? 

I think  so. 

And  who  is  best  able  to  do  good  to  his  friends  and  evil  to  his 
enemies  in  time  of  sickness  ? 

The  physician. 

Or  when  they  are  on  a voyage,  amid  the  perils  of  the  sea  ? 

The  pilot. 

And  in  what  sort  of  actions  or  with  a view  to  what  result  is 
the  just  man  most  able  to  do  harm  to  his  enemy  and  good  to 
his  friend? 

In  going  to  war  against  the  one  and  in  making  alliances  with 
the  other. 

But  when  a man  is  well,  my  dear  Polemarchus,  there  is  no 
need  of  a physician? 

No. 

And  he  who  is  not  on  a vovage  has  no  need  of  a pilot  ? 

No. 

Then  in  time  of  peace  justice  will  be  of  no  use? 

I am  very  far  from  thinking  so. 

You  think  that  justice  may  be  of  use  in  peace  as  well  as  in 
war? 

Classics.  Vol.  31 — 5 


8 


PLATO 


Yes. 

Like  husbandry  for  the  acquisition  of  corn? 

Yes. 

Or  like  shoemaking  for  the  acquisition  of  shoes — that  is  what 
you  mean? 

Yes. 

And  what  similar  use  or  power  of  acquisition  has  justice  in 
time  of  peace  ? 

In  contracts^  Socrates,  justice  is  of  use. 

And  by  contracts  you  mean  partnerships  ? 

Exactly. 

But  is  the  just  man  or  the  skilful  player  a more  useful  and 
better  partner  at  a game  of  draughts? 

The  skilful  player. 

And  in  the  laying  of  bricks  and  stones  is  the  just  man  a more 
useful  or  better  partner  than  the  builder? 

Quite  the  reverse. 

Then  in  what  sort  of  partnership  is  the  just  man  a better 
partner  than  the  harp-player,  as  in  playing  the  harp  the  harp- 
player  is  certainly  a better  partner  than  the  just  man? 

In  a money  partnership. 

Yes,  Polemarchus,  but  surely  not  in  the  use  of  money;  for 
you  do  not  want  a just  man  to  be  your  counsellor  in  the  pur- 
chase or  sale  of  a horse ; a man  who  is  knowing  about  horses 
would  be  better  for  that,  would  he  not? 

Certainly. 

And  when  you  want  to  buy  a ship,  the  shipwright  or  the 
pilot  would  be  better? 

True. 

Then  what  is  that  joint  use  of  silver  or  gold  in  which  the 
just  man  is  to  be  preferred? 

When  you  want  a deposit  to  be  kept  safely. 

You  mean  when  money  is  not  wanted,  but  allowed  to  lie? 

Precisely. 

That  is  to  say,  justice  is  useful  when  money  is  useless? 

That  is  the  inference. 

And  when  you  want  to  keep  a pruning-hook  safe,  then  jus- 
tice is  useful  to  the  individual  and  to  the  State ; but  when  you 
want  to  use  it,  then  the  art  of  the  vine-dresser? 

Clearly. 


THE  REPUBLIC 


9 


And  when  you  want  to  keep  a shield  or  a lyre,  and  not  to  use 
them,  you  would  say  that  justice  is  useful;  but  when  you  want 
to  use  them,  then  the  art  of  the  soldier  or  of  the  musician? 

Certainly. 

And  so  of  all  other  things — justice  is  useful  when  they  are 
useless,  and  useless  when  they  are  useful? 

That  is  the  inference. 

Then  justice  is  not  good  for  much.  But  let  us  consider  this 
further  point:  Is  not  he  who  can  best  strike  a blow  in  a boxing 
match  or  in  any  kind  of  fighting  best  able  to  ward  off  a blow  ? 

Certainly. 

And  he  who  is  most  skilful  in  preventing  or  escaping^  from 
a disease  is  best  able  to  create  one  ? 

True. 

And  he  is  the  best  guard  of  a camp  who  is  best  able  to  steal 
a march  upon  the  enemy  ? 

Certainly. 

Then  he  who  is  a good  keeper  of  anything  is  also  a good 
thief? 

That,  I suppose,  is  to  be  inferred. 

Then  if  the  just  man  is  good  at  keeping  money,  he  is  good 
at  stealing  it. 

That  is  implied  in  the  argument. 

Then  after  all,  the  just  man  has  turned  out  to  be  a thief. 
And  this  is  a lesson  which  I suspect  you  must  have  learnt  out 
of  Homer ; for  he,  speaking  of  Autolycus,  the  maternal  grand- 
father of  Odysseus,  who  is  a favorite  of  his,  affirms  that 

He  was  excellent  above  all  men  in  theft  and  perjury. 

And  so,  you  and  Homer  and  Simonides  are  agreed  that  justice 
is  an  art  of  theft ; to  be  practised,  however,  for  the  good  of 
friends  and  for  the  harm  of  enemies  — that  was  what  you  were 
saying? 

No,  certainly  not  that,  though  I do  not  now  know  what  I 
did  say ; but  I still  stand  by  the  latter  words. 

Well,  there  is  another  question : By  friends  and  enemies  do 
we  mean  those  who  are  so  really,  or  only  in  seeming? 

Surely,  he  said,  a man  may  be  expected  to  love  those  whom 
he  thinks  good,  and  to  hate  those  whom  he  thinks  evil. 

^ Reading  ^vAdfaa-6at  /cal  \aOelv  ovrog,  x t.A. 


lO 


PLATO 


Yes,  but  do  not  persons  often  err  about  good  and  evil:  many 
who  are  not  good  seem  to  be  so,  and  conversely? 

That  is  true. 

Then  to  them  the  good  will  be  enemies  and  the  evil  will  be 
their  friends  ? 

True. 

And  in  that  case  they  will  be  right  in  doing  good  to  the  evil 
and  evil  to  the  good  ? 

Clearly. 

But  the  good  are  just  and  would  not  do  an  injustice? 

True. 

Then  according  to  your  argument  it  is  just  to  injure  those 
who  do  no  wrong  ? 

Nay,  Socrates;  the  doctrine  is  immoral. 

Then  I suppose  that  we  ought  to  do  good  to  the  just  and 
harm  to  the  unjust? 

I like  that  better. 

But  see  the  consequence:  Many  a man  who  is  ignorant  of 
human  nature  has  friends  who  are  bad  friends,  and  in  that  case 
he  ought  to  do  harm  to  them ; and  he  has  good  enemies  whom 
he  ought  to  benefit ; but^  if  so,  we  shall  be  saying  the  very  op- 
posite of  that  which  we  affirmed  to  be  the  meaning  of  Simon- 
ides. 

Very  true,  he  said;  and  I think  that  we  had  better  correct 
an  error  into  which  we  seem  to  have  fallen  in  the  use  of  the 
words  friend  ’’  and  enemy.’’ 

What  was  the  error,  Polemarchus?  I asked. 

We  assumed  that  he  is  a friend  who  seems  to  be  or  who  is 
thought  good. 

And  how  is  the  error  to  be  corrected  ? 

We  should  rather  say  that  he  is  a friend  who  is,  as  well  as 
seems,  good ; and  that  he  who  seems  only  and  is  not  good,  only 
seems  to  be  and  is  not  a friend ; and  of  an  enemy  the  same  may 
be  said. 

You  would  argue  that  the  good  are  our  friends  and  the  bad 
our  enemies  ? 

Yes. 

And  instead  of  saying  simply  as  we  did  at  first,  that  it  is 
just  to  do  good  to  our  friends  and  harm  to  our  enemies,  we 
should  further  say:  It  is  just  to  do  good  to  our  friends  when 
they  are  good,  and  harm  to  our  enemies  when  they  are  evil  ? 


THE  REPUBLIC 


II 


Yes,  that  appears  to  me  to  be  the  truth. 

But  ought  the  just  to  injure  anyone  at  all? 

Undoubtedly  he  ought  to  injure  those  who  are  both  wicked 
and  his  enemies. 

When  horses  are  injured,  are  they  improved  or  deteriorated? 
The  latter. 

Deteriorated,  that  is  to  say,  in  the  good  qualities  of  horses, 
not  of  dogs  ? 

Yes^  of  horses. 

And  dogs  are  deteriorated  in  the  good  qualities  of  dogs,  and 
not  of  horses? 

Of  course. 

And  will  not  men  who  are  injured  be  deteriorated  in  that 
which  is  the  prpper  virtue  of  man? 

Certainly. 

And  that  human  virtue  is  justice? 

To  be  sure. 

Then  men  who  are  injured  are  of  necessity  made  unjust? 
That  is  the  result. 

But  can  the  musician  by  his  art  make  men  unmusical? 
Certainly  not. 

Or  the  horseman  by  his  art  make  them  bad  horsemen  ? 
Impossible. 

And  can  the  just  by  justice  make  men  unjust,  or  speaking 
generally,  can  the  good  by  virtue  make  them  bad? 

Assuredly  not. 

Any  more  than  heat  can  produce  cold  ? 

It  cannot. 

Or  drought  moisture  ? 

Clearly  not. 

Nor  can  the  good  harm  anyone? 

Impossible. 

And  the  just  is  the  good? 

Certainly. 

Then  to  injure  a friend  or  anyone  else  is  not  the  act  of  a 
just  man,  but  of  the  opposite,  who  is  the  unjust? 

I think  that  what  you-say  is  quite  true,  Socrates. 

Then  if  a man  says  that  justice  consists  in  the  repayment  of 
debts,  and  that  good  is  the  debt  which  a just  man  owes  to  his 
friends,  and  evil  the  debt  which  he  owes  to  his  enemies — to  say 


12 


PLATO 


this  is  not  wise ; for  it  is  not  true,  if,  as  has  been  clearly  shown, 
the  injuring  of  another  can  be  in  no  case  just. 

I agree  with  you,  said  Polemarchus. 

Then  you  and  I are  prepared  to  take  up  arms  against  anyone 
who  attributes  such  a saying  to  Simonides  or  Bias  or  Pittacus, 
or  any  other  wise  man  or  seer  ? 

I am  quite  ready  to  do  battle  at  your  side,  he  said. 

Shall  I tell  you  whose  I believe  the  saying  to  be  ? 

Whose  ? 

I believe  that  Periander  or  Perdiccas  or  Xerxes  or  Ismenias 
the  Theban,  or  some  other  rich  and  mighty  man,  who  had  a 
great  opinion  of  his  own  power,  was  the  first  to  say  that  justice 
is  doing  good  to  your  friends  and  harm  to  your  enemies.’’ 

Most  true,  he  said. 

Yes,  I said;  but  if  this  definition  of  justice  also  breaks  down, 
what  other  can  be  offered  ? 

Several  times  in  the  course  of  the  discussion  Thrasymachus 
had  made  an  attempt  to  get  the  argument  into  his  own  hands, 
and  had  been  put  down  by  the  rest  of  the  company,  who  wanted 
to  hear  the  end.  But  when  Polemarchus  and  I had  done  speak- 
ing and  there  was  a pause,  he  could  no  longer  hold  his  peace ; 
and,  gathering  himself  up,  he  came  at  us  like  a wild  beast, 
seeking  to  devour  us.  We  were  quite  panic-stricken  at  the 
sight  of  him. 

He  roared  out  to  the  whole  company : What  folly,  Socrates, 
has  taken  possession  of  you  all  ? And  why,  sillybillies,  do  you 
knock  under  to  one  another?  I say  that  if  you  want  really  to 
know  what  justice  is,  you  should  not  only  ask  but  answer,  and 
you  should  not  seek  honor  to  yourself  from  the  refutation  of  an 
opponent,  but  have  your  own  answer ; for  there  is  many  a one 
who  can  ask  and  cannot  answer.  And  now  I will  not  have  you 
say  that  justice  is  duty  or  advantage  or  profit  or  gain  or  interest, 
for  this  sort  of  nonsense  will  not  do  for  me ; I must  have  clear- 
ness and  accuracy. 

I was  panic-stricken  at  his  words,  and  could  not  look  at  him 
without  trembling.  Indeed  I believe  that  if  I had  not  fixed  my 
eye  upon  him,  I should  have  been  struck  dumb : but  when  I saw 
his  fury  rising,  I looked  at  him  first,  and  was  therefore  able  to 
reply  to  him. 

Thrasymachus,  I said,  with  a quiver,  don’t  be  hard  upon  us. 


THE  REPUBLIC 


13 


Polemarchus  and  I may  have  been  guilty  of  a little  mistake  in 
the  argument,  but  I can  assure  you  that  the  error  was  not  in- 
tentional. If  we  were  seeking  for  a piece  of  gold,  you  would 
not  imagine  that  we  were  “ knocking  under  to  one  another,’^ 
and  so  losing  our  chance  of  finding  it.  And  why,  when  we  are 
seeking  for  justice,  a thing  more  precious  than  many  pieces  of 
gold,  do  you  say  that  we  are  weakly  yielding  to  one  another 
and  not  doing  our  utmost  to  get  at  the  truth?  Nay,  my  good 
friend,  we  are  most  willing  and  anxious  to  do  so,  but  the  fact 
is  that  we  cannot.  And  if  so,  you  people  who  know  all  things 
should  pity  us  and  not  be  angry  with  us. 

How  characteristic  of  Socrates!  he  replied,  with  a bitter 
laugh;  that’s  your  ironical  style!  Did  I not  foresee — nave  I 
not  already  told  you,  that  whatever  he  was  asked  he  vould 
refuse  to  answer,  and  try  irony  or  any  other  shuffle,  ■ order 
that  he  might  avoid  answering? 

You  are  a philosopher,  Thrasymachus,  I replied,  and  well 
know  that  if  you  ask  a person  what  numbers  make  up  'velve, 
taking  care  to  prohibit  him  whom  you  ask  from  answering 
twice  six,  or  three  times  four^  or  six  times  two,  or  foin  times 
three,  ‘‘  for  this  sort  of  nonsense  will  not  do  for  me  " — then 
obviously,  if  that  is  your  way  of  putting  the  question,  no  one 
can  answer  you.  But  suppose  that  he  were  to  retort : “ Thra- 
symachus, what  do  you  mean?  If  one  of  these  numbers  which 
you  interdict  be  the  true  answer  to  the  question,  am  I falsely 
to  say  some  other  number  which  is  not  the  right  one  ? — is  that 
your  meaning?  ” — How  would  you  answer  him? 

Just  as  if  the  two  cases  were  at  all  alike ! he  said. 

Why  should  they  not  be  ? I replied ; and  even  if  they  are  not, 
but  only  appear  to  be  so  to  the  person  who  is  asked,  ought  he 
not  to  say  what  he  thinks,  whether  you  and  I forbid  him  or  not  ? 

I presume  then  that  you  are  going  to  make  one  of  the  inter- 
dicted answers? 

I dare  say  that  I may,  notwithstanding  the  danger,  if  upon 
reflection  I approve  of  any  of  them. 

But  what  if  I give  you  an  answer  about  justice  other  and 
better,  he  said,  than  any  of  these?  What  do  you  deserve  to 
have  done  to  you  ? 

Done  to  me! — as  becomes  the  ignorant,  I must  learn  from 
the  wise — that  is  what  I deserve  to  have  done  to  me. 


14 


PLATO 


What,  and  no  payment ! A pleasant  notion ! 

I will  pay  when  I have  the  money,  I replied. 

But  you  have,  Socrates,  said  Glaucon : and  you,  Thrasyma- 
chus,  need  be  under  no  anxiety  about  money,  for  we  will  all 
make  a contribution  for  Socrates. 

Yes,  he  replied,  and  then  Socrates  will  do  as  he  always  does 
— refuse  to  answer  himself,  but  take  and  pull  to  pieces  the 
answer  of  someone  else. 

Why,  my  good  friend,  I said,  how  can  anyone  answer  who 
knows,  and  says  that  he  knows,  just  nothing;  and  who,  even 
if  he  has  some  faint  notions  of  his  own,  is  told  by  a man  of 
authority  not  to  utter  them  ? The  natural  thing  is,  that  the 
speaker  should  be  someone  like  yourself  who  professes  to  know 
and  can  tell  what  he  knows.  Will  you  then  kindly  answer,  for 
the  edification  of  the  company  and  of  myself? 

Glaucon  and  the  rest  of  the  company  joined  in  my  request, 
and  Thrasymachus,  as  anyone  might  see,  was  in  reality  eager 
to  speak ; for  he  thought  that  he  had  an  excellent  answer,  and 
would  distinguish  himself.  But  at  first  he  aflfected  to  insist 
on  my  answering;  at  length  he  consented  to  begin.  Behold, 
he  said,  the  wisdom  of  Socrates;  he  refuses  to  teach  himself, 
and  goes  about  learning  of  others,  to  whom  he  never  even  says, 
Thank  you. 

That  I learn  of  others,  I replied,  is  quite  true ; but  that  I am 
ungrateful  I wholly  deny.  Money  I have  none,  and  therefore 
I pay  in  praise,  which  is  all  I have;  and  how  ready  I am  to 
praise  anyone  who  appears  to  me  to  speak  well  you  will  very 
soon  find  out  when  you  answer ; for  I expect  that  you  will  an- 
swer well. 

Listen,  then,  he  said;  I proclaim  that  justice  is  nothing  else 
than  the  interest  of  the  stronger.  And  now  why  do  you  not 
praise  me?  But  of  course  you  won’t. 

Let  me  first  understand  you,  I replied.  Justice,  as  you  say, 
is  the  interest  of  the  stronger.  What,  Thrasymachus,  is  the 
meaning  of  this?  You  cannot  mean  to  say  that  because  Polyd- 
amas,  the  pancratiast,  is  stronger  than  we  are,  and  finds  the 
eating  of  beef  conducive  to  his  bodily  strength,  that  to  eat  beef 
is  therefore  equally  for  our  good  who  are  weaker  than  he  is, 
and  right  and  just  for  us? 

That’s  abominable  of  you,  Socrates;  you  take  the  words  in 
the  sense  which  is  most  damaging  to  the  argument. 


THE  REPUBLIC  15 

Not  at  all,  my  good  sir,  I said;  I am  trying  to  understand 
them ; and  I wish  that  you  would  be  a little  clearer. 

Well,  he  said,  have  you  never  heard  that  forms  of  govern- 
ment differ — there  are  tyrannies,  and  there  are  democracies, 
and  there  are  aristocracies  ? 

Yes,  I know. 

And  the  government  is  the  ruling  power  in  each  State? 

Certainly. 

And  the  different  forms  of  government  make  laws  demo- 
cratical,  aristocratical,  tyrannical,  with  a view  to  their  several 
interests;  and  these  laws,  which  are  made  by  them  for  their 
own  interests,  are  the  justice  which  they  deliver  to  their  sub- 
jects, and  him  who  transgresses  them  they  punish  as  a breaker 
of  the  law,  and  unjust.  And  that  is  what  I mean  when  I say 
that  in  all  States  there  is  the  same  principle  of  justice,  which 
is  the  interest  of  the  government ; and  as  the  government  must 
be  supposed  to  have  power,  the  only  reasonable  conclusion  is 
that  everywhere  there  is  one  principle  of  justice,  which  is  the 
interest  of  the  stronger. 

Now  I understand  you,  I said;  and  whether  you  are  right  or 
not  I will  try  to  discover.  But  let  me  remark  that  in  defining 
justice  you  have  yourself  used  the  word  interest,’’  which  you 
forbade  me  to  use.  It  is  true,  however,  that  in  your  definition 
the  words  of  the  stronger  ” are  added. 

A small  addition,  you  must  allow,  he  said. 

Great  or  small,  never  mind  about  that : we  must  first  inquire 
whether  what  you  are  saying  is  the  truth.  Now  we  are  both 
agreed  that  justice  is  interest  of  some  sort,  but  you  go  on  to  say 

of  the  stronger  ” ; about  this  addition  I am  not  so  sure,  and 
must  therefore  consider  further. 

Proceed. 

I will ; and  first  tell  me.  Do  you  admit  that  it  is  just  for  sub- 
jects to  obey  their  rulers  ? 

I do. 

But  are  the  rulers  of  States  absolutely  infallible,  or  are  they 
sometimes  liable  to  err? 

To  be  sure,  he  replied,  they  are  liable  to  err. 

Then  in  making  their  laws  they  may  sometimes  make  them 
rightly,  and  sometimes  not  ? 

True. 


i6 


PLATO 


When  they  make  them  rightly,  they  make  them  agreeably 
to  their  interest ; when  they  are  mistaken,  contrary  to  their  in- 
terest ; you  admit  that  ? 

Yes. 

And  the  laws  which  they  make  must  be  obeyed  by  their  sub- 
jects— and  that  is  what  you  call  justice? 

Doubtless. 

Then  justice,  according  to  your  argument,  is  not  only  obedi- 
ence to  the  interest  of  the  stronger,  but  the  reverse  ? 

What  is  that  you  are  saying  ? he  asked. 

I am  only  repeating  what  you  are  saying,  I believe.  But 
let  us  consider : Have  we  not  admitted  that  the  rulers  may  be 
mistaken  about  their  own  interest  in  what  they  command,  and 
also  that  to  obey  them  is  justice?  Has  not  that  been  admitted? 

Yes. 

Then  you  must  also  have  acknowledged  justice  not  to  be  for 
the  interest  of  the  stronger,  when  the  rulers  .unintentionally 
command  things  to  be  done  which  are  to  their  own  injury.  For 
if,  as  you  say,  justice  is  the  obedience  which  the  subject  renders 
to  their  commands,  in  that  case,  O wisest  of  men,  is  there  ^ny 
escape  from  the  conclusion  that  the  weaker  are  commanded  to 
do,  not  what  is  for  the  interest^  but  what  is  for  the  injury  of 
the  stronger? 

Nothing  can  be  clearer,  Socrates,  said  Polemarchus. 

Yes,  said  Cleitophon,  interposing,  if  you  are  allowed  to  be 
his  witness. 

But  there  is  no  need  of  any  witness,  said  Polemarchus,  for 
Thrasymachus  himself  acknowledges  that  rulers  may  some- 
time command  what  is  not  for  their  own  interest,  and  that  for 
subjects  to  obey  them  is  justice. 

Yes,  Polemarchus — Thrasymachus  said  that  for  subjects  to 
do  what  was  commanded  by  their  rulers  is  just. 

Yes,  Cleitophon,  but  he  also  said  that  justice  is  the  interest 
of  the  stronger,  and,  while  admitting  both  these  propositions, 
he  further  acknowledged  that  the  stronger  may  command  the 
weaker  who  are  his  subjects  to  do  what  is  not  for  his  own  inter- 
est; whence  follows  that  justice  is  the  injury  quite  as  much  as 
the  interest  of  the  stronger. 

But,  said  Cleitophon,  he  meant  by  the  interest  of  the  stronger 
what  the  stronger  thought  to  be  his  interest — this  was  what 
the  weaker  had  to  do ; and  this  was  affirmed  by  him  to  be  justice. 


THE  REPUBLIC 


17 


Those  were  not  his  words,  rejoined  Polemarchus. 

Never  mind,  I replied,  if  he  now  says  that  they  are,  let  us 
accept  his  statement.  Tell  me,  Thrasymachus,  I said,  did  you 
mean  by  justice  what  the  stronger  thought  to  be  his  interest, 
whether  really  so  or  not? 

Certainly  not,  he  said.  Do  you  suppose  that  I call  him  who 
is  mistaken  the  stronger  at  the  time  when  he  is  mistaken? 

Yes,  I said,  my  impression  was  that  you  did  so,  when  you 
admitted  that  the  ruler  was  not  infallible,  but  might  be  some- 
times mistaken. 

You  argue  like  an  informer,  Socrates.  Do  you  mean,  for 
example,  that  he  who  is  mistaken  about  the  sick  is  a physician 
in  that  he  is  mistaken?  or  that  he  who  errs  in  arithmetic  or 
grammar  is  an  arithmetician  or  grammarian  at  the  time  when 
he  is  making  the  mistake,  in  respect  of  the  mistake?  True,  we 
say  that  the  physician  or  arithmetician  or  grammarian  has  made 
a mistake,  but  this  is  only  a way  of  speaking ; for  the  fact  is  that 
neither  the  grammarian  nor  any  other  person  of  skill  ever 
makes  a mistake  in  so  far  as  he  is  what  his  name  implies ; they 
none  of  them  err  unless  their  skill  fails  them,  and  then  they 
cease  to  be  skilled  artists.  No  artist  or  sage  or  ruler  errs  at  the 
time  when  he  is  what  his  name  implies ; though  he  is  commonly 
said  to  err,  and  I adopted  the  common  mode  of  speaking.  But 
to  be  perfectly  accurate,  since  you  are  such  a lover  of  accuracy, 
we  should  say  that  the  ruler,  in  so  far  as  he  is  a ruler,  is  unerr- 
ing, and,  being  unerring,  always  commands  that  which  is  for 
his  own  interest ; and  the  subject  is  required  to  execute  his  com- 
mands ; and  therefore,  as  I said  at  first  an^  now  repeat,  justice 
is  the  interest  of  the  stronger. 

Indeed,  Thrasymachus,  and  do  I really  appear  to  you  to 
argue  like  an  informer  ? 

Certainly,  he  replied. 

And  do  you  suppose  that  I ask  these  questions  with  any  de- 
sign of  injuring  you  in  the  argument? 

Nay,  he  replied,  ''  suppose  is  not  the  word — I know  it ; but 
you  will  be  found  out,  and  by  sheer  force  of  argument  you  will 
never  prevail. 

I shall  not  make  the  attempt,  my  dear  man ; but  to  avoid  any 
misunderstanding  occurring  between  us  in  future,  let  me  ask, 
in  what  sense  do  you  speak  of  a ruler  or  stronger  whose  inter- 


i8 


PLATO 


est,  as  you  were  saying,  he  being  the  superior,  it  is  just  that 
the  inferior  should  execute — is  he  a ruler  in  the  popular  or  in 
the  strict  sense  of  the  term  ? 

In  the  strictest  of  all  senses,  he  said.  And  now  cheat  and 
play  the  informer  if  you  can ; I ask  no  quarter  at  your  hands. 
But  you  never  will  be  able,  never. 

And  do  you  imagine,  I said,  that  I am  such  a madman  as  to 
try  and  cheat  Thrasymachus  ? I might  as  well  shave  a lion. 

Why,  he  said,  you  made  the  attempt  a minute  ago^  and  you 
failed. 

Enough,  I said,  of  these  civilities.  It  will  be  better  that  I 
should  ask  you  a question : Is  the  physician,  taken  in  that  strict 
sense  of  which  you  are  speaking,  a healer  of  the  sick  or  a maker 
of  money  ? And  remember  that  I am  now  speaking  of  the  true 
physician." 

A healer  of  the  sick,  he  replied. 

And  the  pilot — that  is  to  say,  the  true  pilot — is  he  a captain 
of  sailors  or  a mere  sailor? 

A captain  of  sailors. 

The  circumstance  that  he  sails  in  the  ship  is  not  to  be  taken 
into  account ; neither  is  he  to  be  called  a sailor ; the  name  pilot 
by  which  he  is  distinguished  has  nothing  to  do  with  sailing, 
but  is  significant  of  his  skill  and  of  his  authority  over  the  sailors. 

Very  true,  he  said. 

Now,  I said,  every  art  has  an  interest? 

Certainly. 

For  which  the  art  has  to  consider  and  provide? 

Yes,  that  is  the  aim  of  art. 

And  the  interest  of  any  art  is  the  perfection  of  it — this  and 
nothing  else  ? 

What  do  you  mean? 

I mean  what  I may  illustrate  negatively  by  the  example  of  the 
body.  Suppose  you  were  to  ask  me  whether  the  body  is  self- 
sufficing  or  has  wants,  I should  reply : Certainly  the  body  has 
wants ; for  the  body  may  be  ill  and  require  to  be  cured,  and  has 
therefore  interests  to  which  the  art  of  medicine  ministers ; and 
this  is  the  origin  and  intention  of  medicine,  as  you  will  ac- 
knowledge. Am  I not  right? 

Quite  right,  he  replied. 

But  is  the  art  of  medicine  or  any  other  art  faulty  or  deficiVtit 


THE  REPUBLIC 


19 


in  any  quality  in  the  same  way  that  the  eye  may  be  deficient  in 
sight  or  the  ear  fail  of  hearing,  and  therefore  requires  another 
art  to  provide  for  the  interests  of  seeing  and  hearing — has  art 
in  itself,  I say,  any  similar  liability  to  fault  or  defect,  and  does 
every  art  require  another  supplementary  art  to  provide  for  its 
interests,  and  that  another  and  another  without  end  ? Or  have 
the  arts  to  look  only  after  their  own  interests  ? Or  have  they  no 
need  either  of  themselves  or  of  another? — having  no  faults  or 
defects,  they  have  no  need  to  correct  them,  either  by  the  exer- 
cise of  their  own  art  or  of  any  other ; they  have  only  to  consider 
the  interest  of  their  subject-matter.  For  every  art  remains 
pure  and  faultless  while  remaining  true — that  is  to  say,  while 
perfect  and  unimpaired.  Take  the  words  in  your  precise  sense, 
and  tell  me  whether  I am  not  right. 

Yes,  clearly. 

Then  medicine  does  not  consider  the  interest  of  medicine, 
but  the  interest  of  the  body  ? 

True,  he  said. 

Nor  does  the  art  of  horsemanship  consider  the  interests  of 
the  art  of  horsemanship,  but  the  interests  of  the  horse ; neither 
do  any  other  arts  care  for  themselves,  for  they  have  no  needs ; 
they  care  only  for  that  which  is  the  subject  of  their  art? 

True,  he  said. 

But  surely,  Thrasymachus,  the  arts  are  the  superiors  and 
rulers  of  their  own  subjects? 

To  this  he  assented  with  a good  deal  of  reluctance. 

Then,  I said,  no  science  or  art  considers  or  enjoins  the  inter- 
est of  the  stronger  or  superior,  but  only  the  interest  of  the 
subject  and  weaker? 

He  made  an  attempt  to  contest  this  proposition  also,  but 
finally  acquiesced. 

Then,  I continued,  no  physician,  in  so  far  as  he  is  a physician, 
considers  his  own  good  in  what  he  prescribes,  but  the  good  of 
his  patient;  for  the  true  physician  is  also  a ruler  having  the 
human  body  as  a subject,  and  is  not  a mere  money-maker;  that 
has  been  admitted  ? 

Yes. 

And  the  pilot  likewise,  in  the  strict  sense  of  the  term,  is  a 
ruler  of  sailors,  and  not  a mere  sailor  ? 

That  has  been  admitted. 


20 


PLATO 


And  such  a pilot  and  ruler  will  provide  and  prescribe  for  the 
interest  of  the  sailor  who  is  under  him,  and  not  for  his  own  or 
the  ruler’s  interest? 

He  gave  a reluctant  Yes.” 

Then,  I said,  Thrasymachus,  there  is  no  one  in  any  rule  who, 
in  so  far  as  he  is  a ruler,  considers  or  enjoins  what  is  for  his 
own  interest,  but  always  what  is  for  the  interest  of  his  subject 
or  suitable  to  his  art ; to  that  he  looks,  and  that  alone  he  con- 
siders in  everything  which  he  says  and  does. 

When  we  had  got  to  this  point  in  the  argument,  and  every- 
one saw  that  the  definition  of  justice  had  been  completely  upset, 
Thrasymachus,  instead  of  replying  to  me,  said.  Tell  me,  Soc- 
rates, have  you  got  a nurse  ? 

Why  do  you  ask  such  a question,  I said,  when  you  ought 
rather  to  be  answering? 

Because  she  leaves  you  to  snivel,  and  never  wipes  your  nose : 
\ she  has  not  even  taught  you  to  know  the  shepherd  from  the 
0 sheep. 

^ What  makes  you  say  that?  I replied. 

Because  you  fancy  that  the  shepherd  or  neatherd  fattens  or 
tends  the  sheep  or  oxen  with  a view  to  their  own  good  and  not 
to  the  good  of  himself  or  his  master ; and  you  further  imagine 
that  the  rulers  of  States,  if  they  are  true  rulers,  never  think  of 
their  subjects  as  sheep,  and  that  they  are  not  studying  their 
own  advantage  day  and  night.  Oh,  no ; and  so  entirely  astray 
are  you  in  your  ideas  about  the  just  and  unjust  as  not  even  to 
know  that  justice  and  the  just  are  in  reality  another’s  good; 
that  is  to  say,  the  interest  of  the  ruler  and  stronger,  and  the 
loss  of  the  subject  and  servant;  and  injustice  the  opposite;  for 
the  unjust  is  lord  over  the  truly  simple  and  just:  he  is  the 
stronger,  and  his  subjects  do  what  is  for  his  interest,  and  min- 
ister to  his  happiness,  which  is  very  far  from  being  their  own. 
Consider  further,  most  foolish  Socrates,  that  the  just  is  always 
a loser  in  comparison  with  the  unjust.  First  of  all,  in  private 
contracts:  wherever  the  unjust  is  the  partner  of  the  just  you 
will  find  that,  when  the  partnership  is  dissolved,  the  unjust 
man  has  always  more  and  the  just  less.  Secondly,  in  their 
dealings  with  the  State:  when  there  is  an  income-tax,  the  just 
man  will  pay  more  and  the  unjust  less  on  the  same  amount  of 
income ; and  when  there  is  anything  to  be  received  the  one  gains 


THE  REPUBLIC 


21 


nothing  and  the  other  much.  Observe  also  what  happens  when 
they  take  an  office;  there  is  the  just  man  neglecting  his  affairs 
and  perhaps  suffering  other  losses,  and  getting  nothing  out  of 
the  public,  b-ecause  he  is  just;  moreover  he  is  hated  by  his 
friends  and  acquaintance  for  refusing  to  serve  them  in  unlaw- 
ful ways.  But  all  this  is  reversed  in  the  case  of  the  unjust 
man.  I am  speaking,  as  before,  of  injustice  on  a large  scale 
in  which  the  advantage  of  the  unjust  is  most  apparent;  and  my 
meaning  will  be  most  clearly  seen  if  we  turn  to  that  highest 
form  of  injustice  in  which  the  criminal  is  the  happiest  of  men, 
and  the  sufferers  or  those  who  refuse  to  do  injustice  are  the 
most  miserable — that  is  to  say  tyranny,  which  by  fraud  and 
force  takes  away  the  property  of  others,  not  little  by  little  but 
wholesale ; comprehending  in  one,  things  sacred  as  well  as  pro- 
fane, private  and  public ; for  which  acts  of  wrong,  if  he  were 
detected  perpetrating  any  one  of  them  singly,  he  would  be  pun- 
ished and  incur  great  disgrace — they  who  do  such  wrong  in 
particular  cases  are  called  robbers  of  temples,  and  inan-stealers 
and  burglars  and  swindlers  and  thieves.  But  when  a man  be- 
sides taking  away  the  money  of  the  citizens  has  made  slaves  of 
them^  then,  instead  of  these  names  of  reproach,  he  is  termed 
happy  and  blessed,  not  only  by  the  citizens  but  by  all  who  hear 
of  his  having  achieved  the  consummation  of  injustice.  For 
mankind  censure  injustice,  fearing  that  they  may  be  the  vic- 
tims of  it  and  not  because  they  shrink  from  committing  it. 
And  thus,  as  I have  shown,  Socrates,  injustice,  when  on  a suffi- 
cient scale,  has  more  strength  and  freedom  and  mastery  than 
justice;  and,  as  I said  at  first,  justice  is  the  interest  of  the 
stronger,  whereas  injustice  is  a man's  own  profit  and  interest. 

Thrasymachus,  when  he  had  thus  spoken,  having,  like  a bath- 
man,  deluged  our  ears  with  his  words,  had  a mind  to  go  away. 
But  the  company  would  not  let  him;  they  insisted  that  he 
should  remain  and  defend  his  position ; and  I myself  added  my 
own  humble  request  that  he  would  not  leave  us.  Thrasyma- 
chus, I said  to  him,  excellent  man,  how  suggestive  are  your  re- 
marks ! And  are  you  going  to  run  away  before  you  have  fairly 
taught  or  learned  whether  they  are  true  or  not?  Is  the  attempt 
to  determine  the  way  of  man's  life  so  small  a matter  in  your 
eyes — to  determine  how  life  may  be  passed  by  each  one  of  us 
to  the  greatest  advantage? 


PLATO 


And  do  I differ  from  you,  he  said,  as  to  the  importance  of 
the  inquiry? 

You  appear  rather,  I replied,  to  have  no  care  or  thought 
about  us,  Thrasymachus — whether  we  live  better  or  worse 
from  not  knowing  what  you  say  you  know,  is  to  you  a matter 
of  indifference.  Prithee,  friend,  do  not  keep  your  knowledge 
to  yourself;  we  are  a large  party;  and  any  benefit  which  you 
confer  upon  us  will  be  amply  rewarded.  For  my  own  part  I 
openly  declare  that  I am  not  convinced,  and  that  I do  not  be- 
lieve injustice  to  be  more  gainful  than  justice,  even  if  uncon- 
trolled and  allowed  to  have  free  play.  For,  granting  that  there 
may  be  an  unjust  man  who  is  able  to  commit  injustice  either 
by  fraud  or  force,  still  this  does  not  convince  me  of  the  superior 
advantage  of  injustice,  and  there  may  be  others  who  are  in  the 
same  predicament  with  myself.  Perhaps  we  may  be  wrong; 
if  so,  you  in  your  wisdom  should  convince  us  that  we  are  mis- 
taken in  preferring  justice  to  injustice. 

And  hovv  am  I to  convince  you,  he  said,  if  you  are  not  already 
convinced  by  what  I have  just  said;  what  more  can  I do  for 
you  ? Would  you  have  me  put  the  proof  bodily  into  your 
souls  ? 

Heaven  forbid ! I said ; I would  only  ask  you  to  be  consistent ; 
or,  if  you  change,  change  openly  and  let  there  be  no  deception. 
For  I must  remark,  Thrasymachus,  if  you  will  recall  what  was 
previously  said,  that  although  you  began  by  defining  the  true 
physician  in  an  exact  sense,  you  did  not  observe  a like  exact- 
ness when  speaking  of  the  shepherd;  you  thought  that  the 
shepherd  as  a shepherd  tends  the  sheep  not  with  a view  to  their 
own  good,  but  like  a mere  diner  or  banqueter  with  a view  to 
the  pleasures  of  the  table ; or,  again,  as  a trader  for  sale  in  the 
market,  and  not  as  a shepherd.  Yet  surely  the  art  of  the  shep- 
herd is  concerned  only  with  the  good  of  his  subjects;  he  has 
only  to  provide  the  best  for  them,  since  the  perfection  of  the  art 
is  already  insured  whenever  all  the  requirements  of  it  are  satis- 
fied. And  that  was  what  I was  saying  just  now  about  the  ruler. 
I conceived  that  the  art  of  the  ruler,  considered  as  a ruler, 
whether  in  a State  or  in  private  life,  could  only  regard  the  good 
of  his  flock  or  subjects;  whereas  you  seem  to  think  that  the 
rulers  in  States,  that  is  to  say,  the  true  rulers,  like  being  in 
authority. 


THE  REPUBLIC 


23 


Think ! Nay,  I am  sure  of  it. 

Then  why  in  the  case  of  lesser  offices  do  men  never  take  them 
willingly  without  payment,  unless  under  the  idea  that  they 
govern  for  the  advantage  not  of  themselves  but  of  others  ? Let 
me  ask  you  a question : Are  not  the  several  arts  different,  by 
reason  of  their  each  having  a separate  function?  And,  my 
dear  illustrious  friend,  do  say  what  you  think,  that  we  may 
make  a little  progress. 

Yes,  that  is  the  difference,  he  replied. 

And  each  art  gives  us  a particular  good  and  not  merely  a 
general  one — medicine,  for  example,  gives  us  health;  naviga- 
tion, safety  at  sea,  and  so  on  ? 

Yes,  he  said. 

And  the  art  of  payment  has  the  special  function  of  giving 
pay : but  we  do  not  confuse  this  with  other  arts,  any  more  than 
the  art  of  the  pilot  is  to  be  confused  with  the  art  of  medicine, 
because  the  health  of  the  pilot  may  be  improved  by  a sea  voy- 
age. You  would  not  be  inclined  to  say,  would  you?  that  navi- 
gation is  the  art  of  medicine,  at  least  if  we  are  to  adopt  your 
exact  use  of  language  ? 

Certainly  not. 

Or  because  a man  is  in  good  health  when  he  receives  pay 
you  would  not  say  that  the  art  of  payment  is  medicine? 

I should  not. 

Nor  would  you  say  that  medicine  is  the  art  of  receiving  pay 
because  a man  takes  fees  when  he  is  engaged  in  healing? 

Certainly  not. 

And  we  have  admitted,  I said,  that  the  good  of  each  art  is 
specially  confined  to  the  art  ? 

Yes. 

Then,  if  there  be  any  good  which  all  artists  have  in  common, 
that  is  to  be  attributed  to  something  of  which  they  all  have  the 
common  use? 

True,  he  replied. 

And  when  the  artist  is  benefited  by  receiving  pay  the  ad- 
vantage is  gained  by  an  additional  use  of  the  art  of  pay,  which 
is  not  the  art  professed  by  him  ? 

He  gave  a reluctant  assent  to  this. 

Then  the  pay  is  not  derived  by  the  several  artists  from  their 
respective  arts.  But  the  truth  is,  that  while  the  art  of  medicine 


24 


PLATO 


gives  health,  and  the  art  of  the  builder  builds  a house,  another 
art  attends  them  which  is  the  art  of  pay.  The  various  arts 
may  be  doing  their  own  business  and  benefiting  that  over  which 
they  preside,  but  would  the  artist  receive  any  benefit  from  his 
art  unless  he  were  paid  as  well  ? 

I suppose  not. 

But  does  he  therefore  confer  no  benefit  when  he  works  for 
nothing  ? 

Certainly,  he  confers  a benefit. 

Then  now,  Thrasymachus,  there  is  no  longer  any  doubt  that 
neither  arts  nor  governments  provide  for  their  own  interests; 
but,  as  we  were  before  saying,  they  rule  and  provide  for  the 
interests  of  their  subjects  who  are  the  weaker  and  not  the 
stronger — to  their  good  they  attend  and  not  to  the  good  of  the 
superior.  And  this  is  the  reason,  my  dear  Thrasymachus,  why, 
as  I was  just  now  saying,  no  one  is  willing  to  govern;  because 
no  one  likes  to  take  in  hand  the  reformation  of  evils  which 
are  not  his  concern,  without  remuneration.  For,  in  the  execu- 
tion of  his  work,  and  in  giving  his  orders  to  another,  the  true 
artist  does  not  regard  his  own  interest,  but  always  that  of  his 
subjects;  and  therefore  in  order  that  rulers  may  be  willing  to 
rule,  they  must  be  paid  in  one  of  three  modes  of  payment, 
money,  or  honor,  or  a penalty  for  refusing. 

What  do  you  mean,  Socrates?  said  Glaucon.  The  first  two 
modes  of  payment  are  intelligible  enough,  but  what  the  penalty 
is  I do  not  understand,  or  how  a penalty  can  be  a payment. 

You  mean  that  you  do  not  understand  the  nature  of  this  pay- 
ment which  to  the  best  men  is  the  great  inducement  to  rule? 
Of  course  you  know  that  ambition  and  avarice  are  held  to  be, 
as  indeed  they  are,  a disgrace  ? 

Very  true. 

And  for  this  reason,  I said,  money  and  honor  have  no  attrac- 
tion for  them ; good  men  do  not  wish  to  be  openly  demanding 
payment  for  governing  and  so  to  get  the  name  of  hirelings,  nor 
by  secretly  helping  themselves  out  of  the  public  revenues  to  get 
the  name  of  thieves.  And  not  being  ambitious  they  do  not  care 
about  honor.  Wherefore  necessity  must  be  laid  upon  them, 
and  they  must  be  induced  to  serve  from  the  fear  of  punishment. 
And  this,  as  I imagine,  is  the  reason  why  the  forwardness  to 
take  office,  instead  of  waiting  to  be  compelled,  has  been 


THE  REPUBLIC 


25 

deemed  t dishonorable.  Now  the  worst  part  of  the  punishment 
is  that  he.  who  refuses  to  rule  is  liable  to  be  ruled  by  one  who  is 
worse  tha  n himself.  And  the  fear  of  this,  as  I conceive,  in- 
duces the  ^oc>d  to  take  office,  not  because  they  would,  but  be- 
cause they  cannot  help — not  under  the  idea  that  they  are  going 
to  have  any  beriefit  or  enjoyment  themselves,  but  as  a necessity, 
and  because  they!  are  not  able  to  commit  the  task  of  ruling  to 
anyone  who  is  bet/ter  than  themselves,  or  indeed  as  good.  For 
there  is  reason  to  think  that  if  a city  were  composed  entirely 
of  good  men,  then  tp  avoid  office  would  be  as  much  an  object 
of  contention  as  to  obtain  office  is  at  present;  then  we  should 
have  plain  proof  that  ihe  true  ruler  is  not  meant  by  nature  to 
regard  his  own  interest,  but  that  of  his  subjects;  and  everyone 
who  knew  this  would  chopse  rather  to  receive  a benefit  from 
another  than  to  have  the  tfpuble  of  conferring  one.  So  far 
am  I from  agreeing  with  Thrct.symachus  that  justice  is  the  in- 
terest of  the  stronger.  This  lattex-puestion  need  not  be  further 
discussed  at  present;  but  when  Thfasymachus  says  that  the 
life  of  the  unjust  is  more  advantageous  than  that  of  the  just, 
his  new  statement  appears  to  me  to  be  of  a far  more  serious 
character.  Which  of  us  has  spoken  truly?  And  which  sort 
of  life,  Glaucon,  do  you  prefer? 

I for  my  part  deem  the  life  of  the  just  to  be  the  more  ad- 
vantageous, he  answered. 

Did  you  hear  all  the  advantages  of  the  unjust  which  Thra- 
symachus  was  rehearsing? 

Yes,  I heard  him,  he  replied,  but  he  has  not  convinced  me. 

Then  shall  we  try  to  find  some  way  of  convincing  him,  if  we 
can,  that  he  is  saying  what  is  not  true? 

Most  certainly^  he  replied. 

If,  I said,  he  makes  a set  speech  and  we  make  another  re- 
counting all  the  advantages  of  being  just,  and  he  answers  and 
we  rejoin,  there  must  be  a numbering  and  measuring  of  the 
goods  which  are  claimed  on  either  side,  and  in  the  end  we  shall 
want  judges  to  decide ; but  if  we  proceed  in  our  inquiry  as  we 
lately  did,  by  making  admissions  to  one  another,  we  shall  unite 
the  offices  of  judge  and  advocate  in  our  own  persons. 

Very  good,  he  said. 

And  which  method  do  I understand  you  to  prefer  ? I said. 

That  which  you  propose. 


26 


PLATO 


Well,  then,  Thrasymachus,  I said,  suppose  you  be  gin  at  the 
beginning  and  answer  me.  You  say  that  perfect  injustice  is 
more  gainful  than  perfect  justice?  ^ 

Yes,  that  is  what  I say,  and  I have  given  you  my  reasons. 

And  what  is  your  view  about  them?  Woula  you  call  one 
of  them  virtue  and  the  other  vice  ? 

Certainly. 

I suppose  that  you  would  call  justice  virtue  and  injustice 
vice  ? 

What  a charming  notion ! So  likely  to  o,  seeing  that  I affirm 
injustice  to  be  profitable  and  justice  not. 

What  else  then  would  you  say? 

The  opposite,  he  replied. 

And  would  you  call  justice  vice? 

No,  I would  rather  say  sublim.^  simplicity. 

Then  would  you  call  injustice  malignity? 

No;  I would  rather  say  discretion. 

And  do  the  unjust  appear  to  you  to  be  wise  and  good? 

Yes,  he  said;  at  any  rate  those  of  them  who  are  able  to  be 
perfectly  unjust,  and  who  have  the  power  of  subduing  States 
and  nations ; but  perhaps  you  imagine  me  to  be  talking  of  cut- 
purses.  Even  this  profession,  if  undetected,  has  advantages, 
though  they  are  not  to  be  compared  with  those  of  which  I was 
just  now  speaking. 

I do  not  think  that  I misapprehend  your  meaning,  Thrasym- 
achus, I replied;  but  still  I cannot  hear  without  amazement 
that  you  class  injustice  with  wisdom  and  virtue,  and  justice 
with  the  opposite. 

Certainly  I do  so  class  them. 

Now,  I said,  you  are  on  more  substantial  and  almost  unan- 
swerable ground;  for  if  the  injustice  which  you  were  maintain- 
ing to  be  profitable  had  been  admitted  by  you  as  by  others  to 
be  vice  and  deformity,  an  answer  might  have  been  given  to 
you  on  received  principles ; but  now  I perceive  that  you  will 
call  injustice  honorable  and  strong,  and  to  the  unjust  you  will 
attribute  all  the  qualities  which  were  attributed  by  us  before 
to  the  just,  seeing  that  you  do  not  hesitate  to  rank  injustice 
with  wisdom  and  virtue. 

You  have  guessed  most  infallibly,  he  replied. 

Then  I certainly  ought  not  to  shrink  from  going  through 


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27 


with  the  argument  so  long  as  I have  reason  to  think  that  you, 
Thrasymachus,  are  speaking  your  real  mind ; for  I do  believe 
that  you  are  now  in  earnest  and  are  not  amusing  yourself  at 
our  expense. 

I may  be  in  earnest  or  not,  but  what  is  that  to  you  ? — ^to  refute 
ihe  argument  is  your  business. 

Very  true,  I said;  that  is  what  I have  to  do:  But  will  you 
be  so  good  as  answer  yet  one  more  question?  Does  the  just 
man  try  to  gain  any  advantage  over  the  just? 

Far  otherwise ; if  he  did  he  would  not  be  the  simple  amusing 
creature  which  he  is. 

And  would  he  try  to  go  beyond  just  action? 

He  would  not. 

And  how  would  he  regard  the  attempt  to  gain  an  advantage 
over  the  unjust;  would  that  be  considered  by  him  as  just  or 
unjust? 

He  would  think  it  just,  and  would  try  to  gain  the  advantage ; 
but  he  would  not  be  able. 

Whether  he  would  or  would  not  be  able,  I said,  is  not  to  the 
point.  My  question  is  only  whether  the  just  man,  while  refus- 
ing to  have  more  than  another  just  man,  would  wish  and  claim 
to  have  more  than  the  unjust? 

Yes,  he  would. 

And  what  of  the  unjust — does  he  claim  to  have  more  than 
the  just  man  and  to  do  more  than  is  just? 

Of  course,  he  said,  for  he  claims  to  have  more  than  all  men. 

And  the  unjust  man  will  strive  and  struggle  to  obtain  more 
than  the  just  man  or  action,  in  order  that  he  may  have  more 
than  all? 

True. 

We  may  put  the  matter  thus,  I said — the  just  does  not  desire 
more  than  his  like,  but  more  than  his  unlike,  whereas  the  un- 
just desires  more  than  both  his  like  and  his  unlike? 

Nothing,  he  said,  can  be  better  than  that  statement. 

And  the  unjust  is  good  and  wise,  and  the  just  is  neither.? 

Good  again,  he  said. 

And  is  not  the  unjust  like  the  wise  and  good,  and  the  just 
unlike  them  ? 

Of  course,  he  said,  he  who  is  of  a certain  nature,  is  like  those 
who  are  of  a certain  nature ; he  who  is  not.  not. 


28 


PLATO 


Each  of  them,  I said,  is  such  as  his  like  is? 

Certainly,  he  replied. 

Very  good,  Thrasymachiis,  I said;  and  now  to  take  the  case 
of  the  arts : you  would  admit  that  one  man  is  a musician  and 
another  not  a musician? 

Yes. 

And  which  is  wise  and  which  is  foolish? 

Clearly  the  musician  is  wise,  and  he  who  is  not  a musician  is 
foolish. 

And  he  is  good  in  as  far  as  he  is  wise,  and  bad  in  as  far  as 
he  is  foolish? 

Yes. 

And  you  would  say  the  same  sort  of  thing  of  the  physician  ? 

Yes. 

And  do  you  think,  my  excellent  friend,  that  a musician  when 
he  adjusts  the  lyre  would  desire  or  claim  to  exceed  or  go  be- 
yond a musician  in  the  tightening  and  loosening  the  strings? 

I do  not  think  that  he  would. 

But  he  would  claim  to  exceed  the  non-musician? 

Of  course. 

And  what  would  you  say  of  the  physician?  In  prescribing 
meats  and  drinks  would  he  wish  to  go  beyond  another  physician 
or  beyond  the  practice  of  medicine  ? 

He  would  not. 

But  he  would  wish  to  go  beyond  the  non-physician  ? 

Yes. 

And  about  knowledge  and  ignorance  in  general ; see  whether 
you  think  that  any  man  who  has  knowledge  ever  would  wish  to 
have  the  choice  of  saying  or  doing  more  than  another  man  who 
has  knowledge.  Would  he  not  rather  say  or  do  the  same  as  his 
like  in  the  same  case  ? 

That,  I suppose,  can  hardly  be  denied. 

And  what  of  the  ignorant  ? would  he  not  desire  to  have  more 
than  either  the  knowing  or  the  ignorant? 

I dare  say. 

And  the  knowing  is  wise  ? 

Yes. 

And  the  wise  is  good? 

True. 

Then  the  wise  and  good  will  not  desire  to  gain  more  than  his 
like,  but  more  than  his  unlike  and  opposite? 


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29 


I suppose  so. 

Whereas  the  bad  and  ignorant  will  desire  to  gain  more  than 
both? 

Yes. 

But  did  we  not  say,  Thrasymachus,  that  the  unjust  goes  be- 
yond both  his  like  and  unlike?  Were  not  these  your  words? 

They  were. 

And  you  also  said  that  the  just  will  not  go  beyond  his  like, 
but  his  unlike  ? 

Yes. 

Then  the  just  is  like  the  wise  and  good,  and  the  unjust  like 
the  evil  and  ignorant? 

That  is  the  inference. 

And  each  of  them  is  such  as  his  like  is? 

That  was  admitted. 

Then  the  just  has  turned  out  to  be  wise  and  good,  and  the 
unjust  evil  and  ignorant. 

Thrasymachus  made  all  these  admissions,  not  fluently,  as  I 
repeat  them,  but  with  extreme  reluctance;  it  was  a hot  sum- 
mer’s day,  and  the  perspiration  poured  from  him  in  torrents; 
and  then  I saw  what  I had  never  seen  before,  Thrasymachus 
blushing.  As  we  were  now  agreed  that  justice  was  virtue  and 
wisdom,  and  injustice  vice  and  ignorance,  I proceeded  to  an- 
other point : 

Well,  I said,  Thrasymachus,  that  matter  is  now  settled;  but 
were  we  not  also  saying  that  injustice  had  strength — do  you 
remember  ? 

Yes,  I remember,  he  said,  but  do  not  suppose  that  I approve 
of  what  you  are  saying  or  have  no  answer ; if,  however,  I were 
to  answer,  you  would  be  quite  certain  to  accuse  me  of  harangu- 
ing; therefore  either  permit  me  to  have  my  say  out,  or  if  you 
would  rather  ask,  do  so,  and  I will  answer  Very  good,”  as 
they  say  to  story-telling  old  women,  and  will  nod  ‘‘  Yes  ” and 
‘‘No.”  . 

Certainly  not,  I said,  if  contrary  to  your  real  opinion. 

Yes,  he  said,  I will,  to  please  you,  since  you  will  not  let  me 
speak.  What  else  would  you  have? 

Nothing  in  the  world,  I said ; and  if  you  are  so  disposed  I 
will  ask  and  you  shall  answer. 

Proceed. 


30 


PLATO 


Then  I will  repeat  the  question  which  I asked  before^  in  order 
that  our  examination  of  the  relative  nature  of  justice  and  in- 
justice may  be  carried  on  regularly.  A statement  was  made 
that  injustice  is  stronger  and  more  powerful  than  justice,  but 
now  justice,  having  been  identified  with  wisdom  and  virtue, 
is  easily  shown  to  be  stronger  than  injustice,  if  injustice  is  ig- 
norance; this  can  no  longer  be  questioned  by  anyone.  But  I 
want  to  view  the  matter,  Thrasymachus,  in  a different  way: 
You  would  not  deny  that  a State  may  be  unjust  and  may  be 
unjustly  attempting  to  enslave  other  States,  or  may  have  already 
enslaved  them,  and  may  be  holding  many  of  them  in  subjection? 

True,  he  replied;  and  I will  add  that  the  best  and  most  per- 
fectly unjust  State  will  be  most  likely  to  do  so. 

I know,  I said,  that  such  was  your  position ; but  what  I would 
further  consider  is,  whether  this  power  which  is  possessed  by 
the  superior  State  can  exist  or  be  exercised  without  justice  or 
only  with  justice. 

If  you  are  right  in  your  view^  and  justice  is  wisdom,  then 
only  with  justice;  but  if  I am  right,  then  without  justice. 

I am  delighted,  Thrasymachus,  to  see  you  not  only  nodding 
assent  and  dissent,  but  making  answers  which  are  quite  excel- 
lent. 

That  is  out  of  civility  to  you,  he  replied. 

You  are  very  kind,  I said ; and  would  you  have  the  goodness 
also  to  inform  me,  whether  you  think  that  a State,  or  an  army, 
or  a band  of  robbers  and  thieves,  or  any  other  gang  of  evil- 
doers could  act  at  all  if  they  injured  one  another? 

No,  indeed,  he  said,  they  could  not. 

But  if  they  abstained  from  injuring  one  another,  then  they 
might  act  together  better  ? 

Yes. 

And  this  is  because  injustice  creates  divisions  and  hatreds 
and  fighting,  and  justice  imparts  harmony  and  friendship;  is 
not  that  true,  Thrasymachus  ? 

I agree,  he  said,  because  I do  not  wish  to  quarrel  with  you. 

How  good  of  you,  I said ; but  I should  like  to  know  also 
whether  injustice,  having  this  tendency  to  arouse  hatred,  wher- 
ever existing,  among  slaves  or  among  freemen,  will  not  make 
them  hate  one  another  and  set  them  at  variance  and  render  them 
incapable  of  common  action? 


THE  REPUBLIC 


31 


Certainly. 

And  even  if  injustice  be  found  in  two  only,  will  they  not 
quarrel  and  fight,  and  become  enemies  to  one  another  and  to 
the  just? 

They  will. 

And  suppose  injustice  abiding  in  a single  person,  would 
your  wisdom  say  that  she  loses  or  that  she  retains  her  natural 
power  ? 

Let  us  assume  that  she  retains  her  power. 

Yet  is  not  the  power  which  injustice  exercises  of  such  a 
nature  that  wherever  she  takes  up  her  abode,  whether  in  a city, 
in  an  army,  in  a family,  or  in  any  other  body,  that  body  is,  to 
begin  with,  rendered  incapable  of  united  action  by  reason  of 
sedition  and  distraction  ? and  does  it  not  become  its  own  enemy 
and  at  variance  with  all  that  opposes  it,  and  with  the  just?  Is 
not  this  the  case  ? 

Yes,  certainly. 

And  is  not  injustice  equally  fatal  when  existing  in  a single 
person — in  the  first  place  rendering  him  incapable  of  action 
because  he  is  not  at  unity  with  himself,  and  in  the  second  place 
making  him  an  enemy  to  himself  and  the  just?  Is  not  that 
true,  Thrasymachus  ? 

Yes. 

And,  O my  friend,  I said,  surely  the  gods  are  just? 

Granted  that  they  are. 

But,  if  so,  the  unjust  will  be  the  enemy  of  the  gods,  and  the 
just  will  be  their  friends? 

Feast  away  in  triumph,  and  take  your  fill  of  the  argument ; 
I will  not  oppose  you,  lest  I should  displease  the  company. 

Well,  then,  proceed  with  your  answers,  and  let  me  have  the 
remainder  of  my  repast.  For  we  have  already  shown  that  the 
just  are  clearly  wiser  and  better  and  abler  than  the  unjust,  and 
that  the  unjust  are  incapable  of  common  action ; nay,  more,  that 
to  speak  as  we  did  of  men  who  are  evil  acting  at  any  time  vig- 
orously together,  is  not  strictly  true,  for,  if  they  had  been  per- 
fectly evil,  they  would  have  laid  hands  upon  one  another ; but 
it  is  evident  that  there  must  have  been  some  remnant  of  justice 
in  them,  which  enabled  them  to  combine ; if  there  had  not  been 
they  would  have  injured  one  another  as  well  as  their  victims ; 

they  were  but  half-villains  in  their  enterprises;  for  had  they 

Classics.  Vol.  31 — 6 


32 


PLATO 


been  whole  villains,  and  utterly  unjust^  they  would  have  been 
utterly  incapable  of  action.  That,  as  I believe,  is  the  truth  of 
the  matter,  and  not  what  you  said  at  first.  But  whether  the  just 
have  a better  and  happier  life  than  the  unjust  is  a further 
question  which  we  also  proposed  to  consider.  I think  that 
they  have,  and  for  the  reasons  which  I have  given;  but  still 
I should  like  to  examine  further,  for  no  light  matter  is  at  stake, 
nothing  less  than  the  rule  of  human  life. 

Proceed. 

I will  proceed  by  asking  a question : Would  you  not  say  that 
a horse  has  some  end? 

I should. 

And  the  end  or  use  of  a horse  or  of  anything  would  be  that 
which  could  not  be  accomplished,  or  not  so  well  accomplished, 
by  any  other  thing  ? 

I do  not  understand,  he  said. 

Let  me  explain : Can  you  see,  except  with  the  eye  ? 

Certainly  not. 

Or  hear,  except  with  the  ear? 

No. 

These,  then,  may  be  truly  said  to  be  the  ends  of  these  organs  ? 

They  may. 

But  you  can  cut  off  a vine-branch  with  a dagger  or  with  a 
chisel,  and  in  many  other  ways? 

Of  course. 

And  yet  not  so  well  as  with  a pruning-hook  made  for  the 
purpose  ? 

True. 

May  we  not  say  that  this  is  the  end  of  a pruning-hook  ? 

We  may. 

Then  now  I think  you  will  have  no  difficulty  in  understand- 
ing my  meaning  when  I asked  the  question  whether  the  end 
of  anything  would  be  that  which  could  not  be  accomplished,  or 
not  so  well  accomplished,  by  any  other  thing? 

I understand  your  meaning,  he  said,  and  assent. 

And  that  to  which  an  end  is  appointed  has  also  an  excellence? 
Need  I ask  again  whether  the  eye  has  an  end? 

It  has. 

And  has  not  the  eye  an  excellence? 

Yes. 


THE  REPUBLIC 


33 


And  the  ear  has  an  end  and  an  excellence  also  ? 

True. 

And  the  same  is  true  of  all  other  things ; they  have  each  of 
them  an  end  and  a special  excellence? 

That  is  so. 

Well,  and  can  the  eyes  fulfil  their  end  if  they  are  wanting  in 
their  own  proper  excellence  and  have  a defect  instead  ? 

How  can  they,  he  said,  if  they  are  blind  and  cannot  see  ? 

You  mean  to  say,  if  they  have  lost  their  proper  excellence, 
which  is  sight;  but  I have  not  arrived  at  that  point  yet.  I 
would  rather  ask  the  question  more  generally,  and  only  inquire 
whether  the  things  which  fulfil  their  ends  fulfil  them  by  their 
own  proper  excellence,  and  fail  of  fulfilling  them  by  their  own 
defect  ? 

Certainly,  he  replied. 

I might  say  the  same  of  the  ears ; when  deprived  of  their  own 
proper  excellence  they  cannot  fulfil  their  end  ? 

True. 

And  the  same  observation  will  apply  to  all  other  things? 

I agree. 

Well ; and  has  not  the  soul  an  end  which  nothing  else  can 
fulfil?  for  example,  to  superintend  and  command  and  deliber- 
ate and  the  like.  Are  not  these  functions  proper  to  the  soul, 
and  can  they  rightly  be  assigned  to  any  other? 

To  no  other. 

And  is  not  life  to  be  reckoned  among  the  ends  of  the  soul  ? 

Assuredly,  he  said. 

And  has  not  the  soul  an  excellence  also  ? 

Yes. 

And  can  she  or  can  she  not  fulfil  her  own  ends  when  deprived 
of  that  excellence  ? 

She  cannot. 

Then  an  evil  soul  must  necessarily  be  an  evil  ruler  and  super- 
intendent, and  the  good  soul  a good  ruler? 

Yes,  necessarily. 

And  we  have  admitted  that  justice  is  the  excellence  of  the 
soul,  and  injustice  the  defect  of  the  soul? 

That  has  been  admitted. 

Then  the  just  soul  and  the  just  man  will  live  well,  and  the 
unjust  man  will  live  ill? 


34 


PLATO 


That  is  what  your  argument  proves. 

And  he  who  lives  well  is  blessed  and  happy,  and  he  who  lives 
ill  the  reverse  of  happy  ? 

Certainly. 

Then  the  just  is  happy,  and  the  unjust  miserable?  . 

So  be  it. 

But  happiness,  and  not  misery,  is  profitable? 

Of  course. 

Then,  my  blessed  Thrasymachus,  injustice  can  never  be  more 
profitable  than  justice. 

Let  this,  Socrates,  he  said,  be  your  entertainment  at  the 
Bendidea. 

For  which  I am  indebted  to  you,  I said,  now  that  you  have 
grown  gentle  toward  me  and  have  left  off  scolding.  Never- 
theless^ I have  not  been  well  entertained ; but  that  was  my  own 
fault  and  not  yours.  As  an  epicure  snatches  a taste  of  every 
dish  which  is  successively  brought  to  table,  he  not  having  al- 
lowed himself  time  to  enjoy  the  one  before,  so  have  I gone  from 
one  subject  to  another  without  having  discovered  what  I sought 
at  first,  the  nature  of  justice.  I left  that  inquiry  and  turned 
away  to  consider  whether  justice  is  virtue  and  wisdom,  or  evil 
and  folly;  and  when  there  arose  a further  question  about  the 
comparative  advantages  of  justice  and  injustice,  I could  not  re- 
frain from  passing  on  to  that.  And  the  result  of  the  whole 
discussion  has  been  that  I know  nothing  at  all.  For  I know  not 
what  justice  is,  and  therefore  I am  not  likely  to  know  whether 
it  is  or  is  not  a virtue,  nor  can  I say  whether  the  just  man  is 
happy  or  unhappy. 


BOOK  II 


THE  INDIVIDUAL,  THE  STATE,  AND  EDUCATION 
Socrates,  Glaucon 

WITH  these  words  I was  thinking  that  I had  made  an 
end  of  the  discussion;  but  the  end,  in  truth,  proved 
to  be  only  a beginning.  For  Glaucon,  who  is  always 
the  most  pugnacious  of  men^  was  dissatisfied  at  Thrasyma- 
chus’s  retirement;  he  wanted  to  have  the  battle  out.  So  he 
said  to  me:  Socrates,  do  you  wish  really  to  persuade  us,  or 
only  to  seem  to  have  persuaded  us,  that  to  be  just  is  always 
better  than  to  be  unjust? 

I should  wish  really  to  persuade  you,  I replied,  if  I could. 
Then  you  certainly  have  not  succeeded.  Let  me  ask  you 
now:  How  would  you  arrange  goods — are  there  not  some 
which  we  welcome  for  their  own  sakes,  and  independently  of 
their  consequences,  as,  for  example,  harmless  pleasures  and 
enjoyments,  which  delight  us  at  the  time,  although  nothing 
follows  from  them? 

I agree  in  thinking  that  there  is  such  a class,  I replied. 

Is  there  not  also  a second  class  of  goods,  such  as  knowledge, 
sight,  health,  which  are  desirable  not  only  in  themselves,  but 
also  for  their  results  ? 

Certainly,  I said. 

And  would  you  not  recognize  a third  class,  such  as  gym- 
nastic, and  the  care  of  the  sick,  and  the  physician’s  art;  also 
the  various  ways  of  money-making — these  do  us  good  but  we 
regard  them  as  disagreeable;  and  no  one  would  choose  them 
for  their  own  sakes,  but  only  for  the  sake  of  some  reward  or 
result  which  flows  from  them  ? 

There  is,  I said,  this  third  class  also.  But  why  do  you  ask? 
Because  I want  to  know  in  which  of  the  three  classes  you 
would  place  justice? 


35 


3^ 


PLATO 


In  the  highest  class,  I replied — among  those  goods  which 
he  who  would  be  happy  desires  both  for  their  own  sake  and 
for  the  sake  of  their  results. 

Then  the  many  are  of  another  mind;  they  think  that  justice 
is  to  be  reckoned  in  the  troublesome  class,  among  goods  which 
are  to  be  pursued  for  the  sake  of  rewards  and  of  reputation, 
but  in  themselves  are  disagreeable  and  rather  to  be  avoided. 

I know,  I said,  that  this  is  their  manner  of  thinking,  and  that 
this  was  the  thesis  which  Thrasymachus  was  maintaining  just 
now,  when  he  censured  justice  and  praised  injustice.  But  I am 
too  stupid  to  be  convinced  by  him. 

I wish,  he  said,  that  you  would  hear  me  as  well  as  him,  and 
then  I shall  see  whether  you  and  I agree.  For  Thrasymachus 
seems  to  me,  like  a snake,  to  have  been  charmed  by  your  voice 
sooner  than  he  ought  to  have  been ; but  to  my  mind  the  nature 
of  justice  and  injustice  has  not  yet  been  made  clear.  Setting 
aside  their  rewards  and  results,  I want  to  know  what  they  are 
in  themselves,  and  how  they  inwardly  work  in  the  soul.  If 
you  please,  then,  I will  revive  the  argument  of  Thrasymachus. 
And  first  I will  speak  of  the  nature  and  origin  of  justice  accord- 
ing to  the  common  view  of  them.  Secondly,  I will  show  that 
all  men  who  practise  justice  do  so  against  their  will,  of  neces- 
sity, but  not  as  a good.  And  thirdly,  I will  argue  that  there 
is  reason  in  this  view,  for  the  life  of  the  unjust  is  after  all  better 
far  than  the  life  of  the  just — if  what  they  say  is  true,  Socrates, 
since  I myself  am  not  of  their  opinion.  But  still  I acknowledge 
that  I am  perplexed  when  I hear  the  voices  of  Thrasymachus 
and  myriads  of  others  dinning  in  my  ears ; and,  on  the  other 
hand,  I have  never  yet  heard  the  superiority  of  justice  to  injus- 
tice maintained  by  anyone  in  a satisfactory  way.  I want  to  hear 
justice  praised  in  respect  of  itself ; then  I shall  be  satisfied,  and 
you  are  the  person  from  whom  I think  that  I am  most  likely  to 
hear  this;  and  therefore  I will  praise  the  unjust  life  to  the  ut- 
most of  my  power,  and  my  manner  of  speaking  will  indicate  the 
manner  in  which  I desire  to  hear  you  too  praising  justice  and 
censuring  injustice.  Will  you  say  whether  you  approve  of  my 
proposal  ? 

Indeed  I do;  nor  can  I imagine  any  theme  about  which  a 
man  of  sense  would  oftener  wish  to  converse. 

1 am  delighted,  he  replied,  to  hear  you  say  so,  and  shall  begin 
by  speaking,  as  I proposed,  of  the  nature  and  origin  of  justice. 


THE  REPUBLIC 


37 


They  say  that  to  do  injustice  is,  by  nature,  good;  to  suffer 
injustice,  evil ; but  that  the  evil  is  greater  than  the  good.  And 
so  when  men  have  both  done  and  suffered  injustice  and  have 
had  experience  of  both,  not  being  able  to  avoid  the  one  and 
obtain  the  other,  they  think  that  they  had  better  agree  among 
themselves  to  have  neither ; hence  there  arise  laws  and  mutual 
covenants ; and  that  which  is  ordained  by  law  is  termed  by  them 
lawful  and  just.  This  they  affirm  to  be  the  origin  and  nature 
of  justice;  it  is  a mean  or  compromise^  between  the  best  of  all, 
which  is  to  do  injustice  and  not  be  punished,  and  the  worst 
of  all,  which  is  to  suffer  injustice  without  the  power  of  retalia- 
tion; and  justice,  being  at  a middle  point  between  the  two,  is 
tolerated  not  as  a good,  but  as  the  lesser  evil,  and  honored  by 
reason  of  the  inability  of  men  to  do  injustice.  For  no  man 
who  is  worthy  to  be  called  a man  would  ever  submit  to  such 
an  agreement  if  he  were  able  to  resist ; he  would  be  mad  if  he 
did.  Such  is  the  received  account,  Socrates,  of  the  nature  and 
origin  of  justice. 

Now  that  those  who  practise  justice  do  so  involuntarily  and 
because  they  have  not  the  power  to  be  unjust  will  best  appear  if 
we  imagine  something  of  this  kind:  having  given  both  to  the 
just  and  the  unjust  power  to  do  what  they  will,  let  us  watch 
and  see  whither  desire  will  lead  them ; then  we  shall  discover 
in  the  very  act  the  just  and  unjust  man  to  be  proceeding  along 
the  same  road,  following  their  interest,  which  all  natures  deem 
to  be  their  good,  and  are  only  diverted  into  the  path  of  justice 
by  the  force  of  law.  The  liberty  which  we  are  supposing  may 
be  most  completely  given  to  them  in  the  form  of  such  a power 
as  is  said  to  have  been  possessed  by  Gyges,  the  ancestor  of  Croe- 
sus the  Lydian.^  According  to  the  tradition,  Gyges  was  a 
shepherd  in  the  service  of  the  King  of  Lydia ; there  was  a great 
storm,  and  an  earthquake  made  an  opening  in  the  earth  at  the 
place  where  he  was  feeding  his  flock.  Amazed  at  the  sight,  he 
descended  into  the  opening,  where,  among  other  marvels,  he 
beheld  a hollow  brazen  horse,  having  doors,  at  which  he,  stoop- 
ing and  looking  in,  saw  a dead  body  of  stature,  as  appeared  to 
him,  more  than  human  and  having  nothing  on  but  a gold  ring; 
this  he  took  from  the  finger  of  the  dead  and  reascended.  Now 
the  shepherds  met  together,  according  to  custom,  that  they 

* Reading  Tvyy  Kpoiaov  rov  AvBov  npoyovtf. 


38 


PLATO 


might  send  their  monthly  report  about  the  flocks  to  the  King; 
into  their  assembly  he  came  having  the  ring  on  his  finger,  and 
as  he  was  sitting  among  them  he  chanced  to  turn  the  collet  of 
the  ring  inside  his  hand,  when  instantly  he  became  invisible 
to  the  rest  of  the  company  and  they  began  to  speak  of  him  as  if 
he  were  no  longer  present.  He  was  astonished  at  this,  and 
again  touching  the  ring  he  turned  the  collet  outward  and  re- 
appeared ; he  made  several  trials  of  the  ring,  and  always  with 
the  same  result — when  he  turned  the  collet  inward  he  became 
invisible,  when  outward  he  reappeared.  Whereupon  he  con- 
trived to  be  chosen  one  of  the  messengers  who  were  sent  to  the 
court ; where  as  soon  as  he  arrived  he  seduced  the  Queen,  and 
with  her  help  conspired  against  the  King  and  slew  him  and  took 
the  kingdom.  Suppose  now  that  there  were  two  such  magic 
rings,  and  the  just  put  on  one  of  them  and  the  unjust  the  other; 
no  man  can  be  imagined  to  be  of  such  an  iron  nature  that  he 
would  stand  fast  in  justice.  No  man  would  keep  his  hands 
off  what  was  not  his  own  when  he  could  safely  take  what  he 
liked  out  of  the  market,  or  go  into  houses  and  lie  with  anyone 
at  his  pleasure,  or  kill  or  release  from  prison  whom  he  would, 
and  in  all  respects  be  like  a god  among  men.  Then  the  actions 
of  the  just  would  be  as  the  actions  of  the  unjust;  they  would 
both  come  at  last  to  the  same  point.  And  this  we  may  truly 
affirm  to  be  a great  proof  that  a man  is  just,  not  willingly  or 
because  he  thinks  that  justice  is  any  good  to  him  individually, 
but  of  necessity,  for  wherever  anyone  thinks  that  he  can  safely 
be  unjust,  there  he  is  unjust.  For  all  men  believe  in  their 
hearts  that  injustice  is  far  more  profitable  to  the  individual 
than  justice,  and  he  who  argues  as  I have  been  supposing,  will 
say  that  they  are  right.  If  you  could  imagine  anyone  obtaining 
this  power  of  becoming  invisible,  and  never  doing  any  wrong 
or  touching  what  was  another’s,  he  would  be  thought  by  the 
lookers-on  to  be  a most  wretched  idiot,  although  they  would 
praise  him  to  one  another’s  faces,  and  keep  up  appearances  with 
one  another  from  a fear  that  they  too  might  suffer  injustice. 
Enough  of  this. 

Now,  if  we  are  to  form  a real  judgment  of  the  life  of  the 
just  and  unjust,  we  must  isolate  them;  there  is  no  other  way; 
and  how  is  the  isolation  to  be  effected?  I answer:  Let  the 
unjust  man  be  entirely  unjust,  and  the  just  man  entirely  just; 


THE  REPUBLIC 


39 


nothing  is  to  be  taken  away  from  either  of  them,  and  both  are 
to  be  perfectly  furnished  for  the  work  of  their  respective  lives. 
First,  let  the  unjust  be  like  other  distinguished  masters  of  craft; 
like  the  skilful  pilot  or  physician,  who  knows  intuitively  his 
own  powers  and  keeps  within  their  limits,  and  who,  if  he  fails 
at  any  point,  is  able  to  recover  himself.  So  let  the  unjust  make 
his  unjust  attempts  in  the  right  way,  and  lie  hidden  if  he  means 
to  be  great  in  his  injustice  (he  who  is  found  out  is  nobody)  : 
for  the  highest  reach  of  injustice  is,  to  be  deemed  just  when 
you  are  not.  Therefore  I say  that  in  the  perfectly  unjust  man 
we  must  assume  the  most  perfect  injustice;  there  is  to  be  no 
deduction,  but  we  must  allow  him,  while  doing  the  most  unjust 
acts,  to  have  acquired  the  greatest  reputation  for  justice.  If 
he  have  taken  a false  step  he  must  be  able  to  recover  himself ; 
he  must  be  one  who  can  speak  with  effect,  if  any  of  his  deeds 
come  to  light,  and  who  can  force  his  way  where  force  is  re- 
quired by  his  courage  and  strength,  and  command  of  money 
and  friends.  And  at  his  side  let  us  place  the  just  man  in  his 
nobleness  and  simplicity,  wishing,  as  iEschylus  says,  to  be  and 
not  to  seem  good.  There  must  be  no  seeming,  for  if  he  seem 
to  be  just  he  will  be  honored  and  rewarded,  and  then  we  shall 
not  know  whether  he  is  just  for  the  sake  of  justice  or  for  the 
sake  of  honor  and  rewards ; therefore,  let  him  be  clothed  in  jus- 
tice only,  and  have  no  other  covering ; and  he  must  be  imagined 
in  a state  of  life  the  opposite  of  the  former.  Let  him  be  the  best 
of  men,  and  let  him  be  thought  the  worst;  then  he  will  have 
been  put  to  the  proof;  and  we  shall  see  whether  he  will  be 
affected  by  the  fear  of  infamy  and  its  consequences.  And  let 
him  continue  thus  to  the  hour  of  death ; being  just  and  seeming 
to  be  unjust.  When  both  have  reached  the  uttermost  extreme, 
the  one  of  justice  and  the  other  of  injustice,  let  judgment  be 
given  which  of  them  is  the  happier  of  the  two. 

Heavens!  my  dear  Glaucon,  I said,  how  energetically  you 
polish  them  up  for  the  decision,  first  one  and  then  the  other, 
as  if  they  were  two  statues. 

I do  my  best,  he  said.  And  now  that  we  know  what  they 
are  like  there  is  no  difficulty  in  tracing  out  the  sort  of  life  which 
awaits  either  of  them.  This  I will  proceed  to  describe ; but  as 
you  may  think  the  description  a little  too  coarse,  I ask  you  to 
suppose,  Socrates,  that  the  words  which  follow  are  not  mine. 


40 


PLATO 


Let  me  put  them  into  the  mouths  of  the  eulogists  of  injustice: 
They  will  tell  you  that  the  just  man  who  is  thought  unjust  will 
be  scourged,  racked,  bound — will  have  his  eyes  burnt  out ; and, 
at  last,  after  suflfering  every  kind  of  evil^  he  will  be  impaled. 
Then  he  will  understand  that  he  ought  to  seem  only,  and  not 
to  be,  just;  the  words  of  ^schylus  may  be  more  truly  spoken 
of  the  unjust  than  of  the  just.  For  the  unjust  is  pursuing  a 
reality ; he  does  not  live  with  a view  to  appearances — he  wants 
to  be  really  unjust  and  not  to  seem  only — 

His  mind  has  a soil  deep  and  fertile, 

Out  of  which  spring  his  prudent  counsels.”  ^ 

In  the  first  place,  he  is  thought  just,  and  therefore  bears  rule 
in  the  city ; he  can  marry  whom  he  will,  and  give  in  marriage 
to  whom  he  will ; also  he  can  trade  and  deal  where  he  likes,  and 
always  to  his  own  advantage,  because  he  has  no  misgivings 
about  injustice;  and  at  every  contest,  whether  in  public  or  pri- 
vate, he  gets  the  better  of  his  antagonists,  and  gains  at  their 
expense,  and  is  rich,  and  out  of  his  gains  he  can  benefit  his 
friends,  and  harm  his  enemies ; moreover,  he  can  offer  sacri- 
fices, and  dedicate  gifts  to  the  gods  abundantly  and  magnifi- 
cently, and  can  honor  the  gods  or  any  man  whom  he  wants  to 
honor  in  a far  better  style  than  the  just,  and  therefore  he  is 
likely  to  be  dearer  than  they  are  to  the  gods.  And  thus,  Soc- 
rates, gods  and  men  are  said  to  unite  in  making  the  life  of  the 
unjust  better  than  the  life  of  the  just. 

I was  going  to  say  something  in  answer  to  Glaucon,  when 
Adeimantus,  his  brother,  interposed:  Socrates,  he  said,  you 
do  not  suppose  that  there  is  nothing  more  to  be  urged  ? 

Why,  what  else  is  there  ? I answered. 

The  strongest  point  of  all  has  not  been  even  mentioned,  he 
replied. 

Well,  then,  according  to  the  proverb,  Let  brother  help 
brother  ’’ — if  he  fails  in  any  part,  do  you  assist  him ; although 
I must  confess  that  Glaucon  has  already  said  quite  enough  to 
lay  me  in  the  dust,  and  take  from  me  the  power  of  helping 
justice. 

Nonsense,  he  replied.  But  let  me  add  something  more: 
There  is  another  side  to  Glaucon’s  argument  about  the  praise 

* “ Seven  against  Thebes,”  574. 


THE  REPUBLIC 


4t 

and  censure  of  justice  and  injustice,  which  is  equally  required 
in  order  to  bring  out  what  I believe  to  be  his  meaning.  Parents 
and  tutors  are  always  telling  their  sons  and  their  wards  that 
they  are  to  be  just;  but  why?  not  for  the  sake  of  justice,  but 
for  the  sake  of  character  and  reputation ; in  the  hope  of  obtain- 
ing for  him  who  is  reputed  just  some  of  those  offices,  marriages, 
and  the  like  which  Glaucon  has  enumerated  among  the  ad- 
vantages accruing  to  the  unjust  from  the  reputation  of  justice. 
More,  however,  is  made  of  appearances  by  this  class  of  persons 
than  by  the  others ; for  they  throw  in  the  good  opinion  of  the 
gods,  and  will  tell  you  of  a shower  of  benefits  which  the  heavens, 
as  they  say,  rain  upon  the  pious ; and  this  accords  with  the  tes- 
timony of  the  noble  Hesiod  and  Homer,  the  first  of  whom  says 
that  the  gods  make  the  oaks  of  the  just — 

“ To  bear  acorns  at  their  summit,  and  bees  in  the  middle ; 

And  the  sheep  are  bowed  down  with  the  weight  of  their  fleeces,”  ^ 

and  many  other  blessings  of  a like  kind  are  provided  for  them. 
And  Homer  has  a very  similar  strain;  for  he  speaks  of  one 
whose  fame  is 

As  the  fame  of  some  blameless  king  who,  like  a god. 

Maintains  justice ; to  whom  the  black  earth  brings  forth 
Wheat  and  barley,  whose  trees  are  bowed  with  fruit, 

And  his  sheep  never  fail  to  bear,  and  the  sea  gives  him  fish.”* 

Still  grander  are  the  gifts  of  heaven  which  Musseus  and  his 
son®  vouchsafe  to  the  just ; they  take  them  down  into  the  world 
below,  where  they  have  the  saints  lying  on  couches  at  a feast, 
everlastingly  drunk,  crowned  with  garlands ; their  idea  seems 
to  be  that  an  immortality  of  drunkenness  is  the  highest  meed 
of  virtue.  Some  extend  their  rewards  yet  further;  the  pos- 
terity, as  they  say,  of  the  faithful  and  just  shall  survive  to  the 
third  and  fourth  generation.  This  is  the  style  in  which  they 
praise  justice.  But  about  the  wicked  there  is  another  strain; 
they  bury  them  in  a slough  in  Hades,  and  make  them  carry 
water  in  a sieve ; also  while  they  are  yet  living  they  bring  them 
to  infamy,  and  inflict  upon  them  the  punishments  which  Glau- 
con described  as  the  portion  of  the  just  who  are  reputed  to  be 

* Hesiod,  “ Works  and  Days,**  230.  * Homer,  “ Odyssey,*’  xix.  109.  » Eumolpus. 


42 


PLATO 


unjust ; nothing  else  does  their  invention  supply.  Such  is  their 
manner  of  praising  the  one  and  censuring  the  other. 

Once  more,  Socrates,  I will  ask  you  to  consider  another  way 
of  speaking  about  justice  and  injustice,  which  is  not  confined 
to  the  poets,  but  is  found  in  prose  writers.  The  universal  voice 
of  mankind  is  always  declaring  that  justice  and  virtue  are 
honorable,  but  grievous  and  toilsome;  and  that  the  pleasures 
of  vice  and  injustice  are  easy  of  attainment,  and  are  only  cen- 
sured by  law  and  opinion.  They  say  also  that  honesty  is  for 
the  most  part  less  profitable  than  dishonesty ; and  they  are  quite 
ready  to  call  wicked  men  happy,  and  to  honor  them  both  in  pub- 
lic and  private  when  they  are  rich  or  in  any  other  way  influen- 
tial, while  they  despise  and  overlook  those  who  may  be  weak 
and  poor,  even  though  acknowledging  them  to  be  better  than 
the  others.  But  most  extraordinary  of  all  is  their  mode  of 
speaking  about  virtue  and  the  gods : they  say  that  the  gods  ap- 
portion calamity  and  misery  to  many  good  men,  and  good  and 
happiness  to  the  wicked.  And  mendicant  prophets  go  to  rich 
men’s  doors  and  persuade  them  that  they  have  a power  com- 
mitted to  them  by  the  gods  of  making  an  atonement  for  a man’s 
own  or  his  ancestor’s  sins  by  sacrifices  or  charms,  with  rejoic- 
ings and  feasts ; and  they  promise  to  harm  an  enemy,  whether 
just  or  unjust,  at  a small  cost;  with  magic  arts  and  incantations 
binding  heaven,  as  they  say,  to  execute  their  will.  And  the 
poets  are  the  authorities  to  whom  they  appeal^  now  smoothing 
the  path  of  vice  with  the  words  of  Hesiod : 

“ Vice  may  be  had  in  abundance  without  trouble ; the  way  is  smooth 
and  her  dwelling-place  is  near.  But  before  virtue  the  gods  have  set  toil,”  ^ 

and  a tedious  and  uphill  road : then  citing  Homer  as  a witness 
that  the  gods  may  be  influenced  by  men ; for  he  also  says : 

“ The  gods,  too,  may  be  turned  from  their  purpose  ; and  men  pray  to 
them  and  avert  their  wrath  by  sacrifices  and  soothing  entreaties,  and  by 
libations  and  the  odor  of  fat,  when  they  have  sinned  and  trangressed.”  * 

And  they  produce  a host  of  books  written  by  Musaeus  and  Or- 
pheus, who  were  children  of  the  Moon  and  the  muses — that  is 
what  they  say — according  to  which  they  perform  their  ritual, 


> Hesiod,  “ Works  and  Days,”  287. 


* Homer,  ” Iliad,”  ix.  493. 


THE  REPUBLIC 


43 


and  persuade  not  only  individuals,  but  whole  cities,  that  expia- 
tions and  atonements  for  sin  may  be  made  by  sacrifices  and 
amusements  which  fill  a vacant  hour,  and  are  equally  at  the 
service  of  the  living  and  the  dead ; the  latter  sort  they  call  mys- 
tetiv^'s,  and  they  redeem  us  from  the  pains  of  hell,  but  if  we 
negle^'t  them  no  one  knows  what  awaits  us. 

He  proceeded : And  now  when  the  young  hear  all  this  said 
about  virtue  and  vice,  and  the  way  in  which  gods  and  men  re- 
gard them,  how  are  their  minds  likely  to  be  affected,  my  dear 
Socrates — those  of  them,  I mean,  who  are  quick-witted,  and, 
like  bees  on  the  wing,  light  on  every  flower,  and  from  all  that 
they  hear  are  prone  to  draw  conclusions  as  to  what  manner  of 
persons  they  should  be  and  in  what  way  they  should  walk  if 
they  would  make  the  best  of  life  ? Probably  the  youth  will  say 
to  himself  in  the  words  of  Pindar : 

“ Can  I by  justice  or  by  crooked  ways  of  deceit  ascend  a loftier  tower 
which  may  be  a fortress  to  me  all  my  days  ? ” 

For  what  men  say  is  that,  if  I am  really  just  and  am  not  also 
thought  just,  profit  there  is  none,  but  the  pain  and  loss  on  the 
other  hand  are  unmistakable.  But  if,  though  unjust,  I acquire 
the  reputation  of  justice,  a heavenly  life  is  promised  to  me. 
Since  then,  as  philosophers  prove,  appearance  tyrannizes  over 
truth  and  is  lord  of  happiness,  to  appearance  I must  devote 
myself.  I will  describe  around  me  a picture  and  shadow  of 
virtue  to  be  the  vestibule  and  exterior  of  my  house;  behind  I 
will  trail  the  subtle  and  crafty  fox,  as  Archilochus,  greatest  of 
sages,  recommends.  But  I hear  someone  exclaiming  that  the 
concealment  of  wickedness  is  often  difficult ; to  which  I answer, 
Nothing  great  is  easy.  Nevertheless,  the  argument  indicates 
this,  if  we  would  be  happy,  to  be  the  path  along  which  we 
should  proceed.  With  a view  to  concealment  we  will  establish 
secret  brotherhoods  and  political  clubs.  And  there  are  profes- 
sors of  rhetoric  who  teach  the  art  of  persuading  courts  and 
assemblies;  and  so,  partly  by  persuasion  and  partly  by  force, 
I shall  make  unlawful  gains  and  not  be  punished.  Still  I hear 
a voice  saying  that  the  gods  cannot  be  deceived,  neither  can 
they  be  compelled.  But  what  if  there  are  no  gods  ? or,  suppose 
them  to  have  no  care  of  human  things — why  in  either  case 
should  we  mind  about  concealment?  And  even  if  there  are 


44 


PLATO 


gods,  and  they  do  care  about  us,  yet  we  know  of  ^em  only 
from  tradition  and  the  genealogies  of  the  poets ; and  these  are 
the  very  persons  who  say  that  they  may  be  influenced  and 
turned  by  ''  sacrifices  and  soothing  entreaties  and  by  offerings:/* 
Let  us  be  consistent,  then,  and  believe  both  or  neither.  If  me 
poets  speak  truly,  why,  then,  we  had  better  be  unjust,  and  offer 
of  the  fruits  of  injustice;  for  if  we  are  just,  although  we  may 
escape  the  vengeance  of  heaven,  we  shall  lose  the  gains  of  in- 
justice; but,  if  we  are  unjust,  we  shall  keep  the  gains,  and  by 
our  sinning  and  praying,  and  praying  and  sinning,  the  gods 
will  be  propitiated,  and  we  shall  not  be  punished.  ‘‘  But  there 
is  a world  below  in  which  either  we  or  our  posterity  will  suffer 
for  our  unjust  deeds.**  Yes,  my  friend,  will  be  the  reflection, 
but  there  are  mysteries  and  atoning  deities,  and  these  have 
great  power.  That  is  what  mighty  cities  declare ; and  the  chil- 
dren of  the  gods,  who  were  their  poets  and  prophets,  bear  a like 
testimony. 

On  what  principle,  then,  shall  we  any  longer  choose  justice 
rather  than  the  worst  injustice  ? when,  if  we  only  unite  the  lat- 
ter with  a deceitful  regard  to  appearances,  we  shall  fare  to  our 
mind  both  with  gods  and  men,  in  life  and  after  death,  as  the 
most  numerous  and  the  highest  authorities  tell  us.  Knowing 
all  this,  Socrates,  how  can  a man  who  has  any  superiority  of 
mind  or  person  or  rank  or  wealth,  be  willing  to  honor  justice; 
or  indeed  to  refrain  from  laughing  when  he  hears  justice 
praised  ? And  even  if  there  should  be  someone  who  is  able  to 
disprove  the  truth  of  my  words,  and  who  is  satisfied  that  justice 
is  best,  still  he  is  not  angry  with  the  unjust,  but  is  very  ready 
to  forgive  them,  because  he  also  knows  that  men  are  not  just 
of  their  own  free  will ; unless,  peradventure,  there  be  someone 
whom  the  divinity  within  him  may  have  inspired  with  a hatred 
of  injustice,  or  who  has  attained  knowledge  of  the  truth — but 
no  other  man.  He  only  blames  injustice,  who,  owing  to  cow- 
ardice or  age  or  some  weakness,  has  not  the  power  of  being 
unjust.  And  this  is  proved  by  the  fact  that  when  he  obtains 
the  power,  he  immediately  becomes  unjust  as  far  as  he  can  be. 

The  cause  of  all  this,  Socrates,  was  indicated  by  us  at  the 
beginning  of  the  argument,  when  my  brother  and  I told  you 
how  astonished  we  were  to  find  that  of  all  the  professing  pan- 
egyrists of  justice — ^beginning  with  the  ancient  heroes  of  whom 


THE  REPUBLIC 


45 


any  memorial  has  been  preserved  to  us,  and  ending  with  the 
men  of  our  own  time — no  one  has  ever  blamed  injustice  or 
praised  justice  except  with  a view  to  the  glories^  honors,  and 
benefits  which  flow  from  them.  No  one  has  ever  adequately  de- 
scribed either  in  verse  or  prose  the  true  essential  nature  of  either 
of  them  abiding  in  the  soul,  and  invisible  to  any  human  or  divine 
eye ; or  shown  that  of  all  the  things  of  a man's  soul  which  he  has 
within  him,  justice  is  the  greatest  good,  and  injustice  the  great- 
est evil.  Had  this  been  the  universal  strain,  had  you  sought  to 
persuade  us  of  this  from  our  youth  upward,  we  should  not  have 
been  on  the  watch  to  keep  one  another  from  doing  wrongs  but 
everyone  would  have  been  his  own  watchman,  because  afraid, 
if  he  did  wrong,  of  harboring  in  himself  the  greatest  of  evils. 
I dare  say  that  Thrasymachus  and  others  would  seriously  hold 
the  language  which  I have  been  merely  repeating,  and  words 
even  stronger  than  these  about  justice  and  injustice,  grossly, 
as  I conceive,  perverting  their  true  nature.  But  I speak  in  this 
vehement  manner,  as  I must  frankly  confess  to  you,  because 
I want  to  hear  from  you  the  opposite  side ; and  I would  ask  you 
to  show  not  only  the  superiority  which  justice  has  over  injus- 
tice, but  what  effect  they  have  on  the  possessor  of  them  which 
makes  the  one  to  be  a good  and  the  other  an  evil  to  him.  And 
please,  as  Glaucon  requested  of  you,  to  exclude  reputations ; for 
unless  you  take  away  from  each  of  them  his  true  reputation  and 
add  on  the  false,  we  shall  say  that  you  do  not  praise  justice,  but 
the  appearance  of  it ; we  shall  think  that  you  are  only  exhorting 
us  to  keep  injustice  dark,  and  that  you  really  agree  with  Thra- 
symachus in  thinking  that  justice  is  another's  good  and  the  in- 
terest of  the  stronger,  and  that  injustice  is  a man's  own  profit 
and  interest,  though  injurious  to  the  w’^eaker.  Now  as  you 
have  admitted  that  justice  is  one  of  that  highest  class  of  goods 
which  are  desired,  indeed,  for  their  results,  but  in  a far  greater 
degree  for  their  own  sakes — like  sight  or  hearing  or  knowledge 
or  health,  or  any  other  real  and  natural  and  not  merely  conven- 
tional good — I would  ask  you  in  your  praise  of  justice  to  regard 
one  point  only : I mean  the  essential  good  and  evil  which  justice 
and  injustice  work  in  the  possessors  of  them.  Let  others  praise 
justice  and  censure  injustice,  magnifying  the  rewards  and 
honors  of  the  one  and  abusing  the  other;  that  is  a manner  of 
arguing  which,  coming  from  them,  I am  ready  to  tolerate,  but 


46 


PLATO 


from  you  who  have  spent  your  whole  life  in  the  consideration 
of  this  question,  unless  I hear  the  contrary  from  your  own  lips, 
I expect  something  better.  And  therefore,  I say,  not  only 
prove  to  us  that  justice  is  better  than  injustice,  but  show  what 
they  either  of  them  do  to  the  possessor  of  them,  which  makes 
the  one  to  be  a good  and  the  other  an  evil,  whether  seen  or  un- 
seen by  gods  and  men. 

I had  always  admired  the  genius  of  Glaucon  and  Adeiman- 
tus,  but  on  hearing  these  words  I was  quite  delighted,  and  said : 
Sons  of  an  illustrious  father,  that  was  not  a bad  beginning  of 
the  elegiac  verses  which  the  admirer  of  Gkucon  made  in  honor 
of  you  after  you  had  distinguished  yourselves  at  the  battle  of 
Megara : 

“ Sons  of  Ariston,"  he  sang,  “ divine  offspring  of  an  illustrious  hero.” 

The  epithet  is  very  appropriate,  for  there  is  something  truly 
divine  in  being  able  to  argue  as  you  have  done  for  the  supe- 
riority of  injustice,  and  remaining  unconvinced  by  your  own 
arguments.  And  I do  believe  that  you  are  not  convinced — 
this  I infer  from  your  general  character,  for  had  I judged  only 
from  your  speeches  I should  have  mistrusted  you.  But  now, 
the  greater  my  confidence  in  you,  the  greater  is  my  difficulty  in 
knowing  what  to  say.  For  I am  in  a strait  between  two;  on 
the  one  hand  I feel  that  I am  unequal  to  the  task ; and  my  ina- 
bility is  brought  home  to  me  by  the  fact  that  you  were  not  sat- 
isfied with  the  answer  which  I made  to  Thrasymachus,  proving, 
as  I thought,  the  superiority  which  justice  has  over  injustice. 
And  yet  I cannot  refuse  to  help,  while  breath  and  speech  remain 
to  me;  I am  afraid  that  there  would  be  an  impiety  in  being 
^present  when  justice  is  evil  spoken  of  and  not  lifting  up  a hand 
in  her  defence.  And  therefore  I had  best  give  such  help  as  I 
can. 

Glaucon  and  the  rest  entreated  me  by  all  means  not  to  let 
the  question  drop,  but  to  proceed  in  the  investigation.  They 
wanted  to  arrive  at  the  truth,  first,  about  the  nature  of  justice 
and  injustice,  and  secondly,  about  their  relative  advantages. 
I told  them,  what  I really  thought,  that  the  inquiry  would  be 
of  a serious  nature,  and  would  require  very  good  eyes.  Seeing 
then,  I said,  that  we  are  no  great  wits,  I think  that  we  had  bet- 
ter adopt  a method  which  I may  illustrate  thus ; suppose  that 


THE  REPUBLIC 


47 


a short-sighted  person  had  been  asked  by  someone  to  read  small 
letters  from  a distance;  and  it  occurred  to  someone  else  that 
they  might  be  found  in  another  place  which  was  larger  and  in 
which  the  letters  were  larger — if  they  were  the  same  and  he 
could  read  the  larger  letters  first,  and  then  proceed  to  the  lesser 
— this  would  have  been  thought  a rare  piece  of  good-fortune. 

Very  true,  said  Adeimantus;  but  how  does  the  illustration 
apply  to  our  inquiry? 

I will  tell  you,  I replied;  justice,  which  is  the  subject  of  our 
inquiry,  is,  as  you  know,  sometimes  spoken  of  as  "the  virtue  of 
an  individual,  and  sometimes  as  the  virtue  of  a State. 

True,  he  replied. 

And  is  not  a State  larger  than  an  individual? 

It  is. 

Then  in  the  larger  the  quantity  of  justice  is  likely  to  be  larger 
and  more  easily  discernible.  I propose  therefore  that  we  in- 
quire into  the  nature  of  justice  and  injustice,  first  as  they  appear 
in  the  State,  and  secondly  in  the  individual,  proceeding  from 
the  greater  to  the  lesser  and  comparing  them. 

That,  he  said,  is  an  excellent  proposal. 

Andnf^y^am^  the  State  in  prpcess  of  creation,  we  shall 
see  the  justice  and  injustice  of  the  State  in  process  of  creation 
also. 

I dare  say. 

When  the  State  is  completed  there  may  be  a hope  that  the 
object  of  our  search  will  be  more  easily  discovered. 

Yes,  far  more  easily. 

But  ought  we  to  attempt  to  construct  one  ? I said ; for  to  do 
so,  as  I am  inclined  to  think,  will  be  a very  serious  task.  Re- 
flect therefore. 

I have  reflected,  said  ^deimantus,  and  am  anxious  that  you 
should  proceed. 

A State,  I said,  arises,  as  I conceive^jput  of  the  needs  of  man- 
kind; no  one  IS  T^f-sufficing,  buT^  of  us  have  man)rwahts. 
Can  any  other  origuToTa  State  be  imagined?  ^ ^ 

There  can  be  no  other. 

Then,  as  we  have  many  wants,  and  many  persons  are  needed 
to  supply  them,  one  takes  a helper  for  one  purpose  and  another 
for  another ; and  when  these  partners  and  helpers  are  gathered 
together  in  one  habitation  the  body  of  inhabitants  is  termed  a 
State. 


48 


PLATO 


True,  he  said. 

And  they  exchange  with  one  another,  and  one  gives,  and  an- 
other receives,  under  the  idea  that  the  exchange  will  be  for 
their  good. 

Very  true. 

Then,  I said,  let  us  begin  and  create  in  idea  a State ; and^^t 
thejrue  creator  is  necessity,  who  is  the  mother  of  our  inventioru- 

Of  course,  he  replied. 

Now  the  first  and  greatest  of  necessities  is  food,  which  is 
the  condition  of  life  and  existence. 

Certainly. 

The  second  is  a dwelling,  and  the  third  clothing  and  the  like. 

True. 

And  now  let  us  see  how  our  city  will  be  able  to  supply  this 
great  demand:  We  may  suppose  that  one  man  is  a husband- 
man, another  a builder,  someone  else  a weaver — shall  we  add 
to  them  a shoemaker,  or  perhaps  some  other  purveyor  to  our 
bodily  wants? 

Quite  right. 

The  barest  notion  of  a State  must  include  four  or  five  men. 

Clearly. 

And  how  will  they  proceed?  Will  each  bring  the  result  of 
his  labors  into  a common  stock? — the  individual  husbandman, 
for  example,  producing  for  four,  and  laboring  four  times  as 
long  and  as  much  as  he  need  in  the  provision  of  food  with 
which  he  supplies  others  as  well  as  himself ; or  will  he  have 
nothing  to  do  with  others  and  not  be  at  the  trouble  of  producing 
for  them,  but  provide  for  himself  alone  a fourth  of  the  food  in 
a fourth  of  the  time,  and  in  the  remaining  three-fourths  of  his 
time  be  employed  in  making  a house  or  a coat  or  a pair  of  shoes, 
having  no  partnership  with  others,  but  supplying  himself  all  his 
own  wants? 

Adeimantus  thought  that  he  should  aim  at  producing  food 
only  and  not  at  producing  everything. 

Probably,  I replied,  that  would  be  the  better  way ; and  when 
I hear  you  say  this,  I am  myself  reminded  that  we  are  not  all 
alike ; there  are  diversities  of  natures  among  us  which  are 
adapted  to  different  occupations. 

Very  true. 

And  will  you  have  a work  better  done  when  the  workman 
has  many  occupations,  or  when  he  has  only  one  ? 


THE  REPUBLIC 


49 


When  he  has  only  one. 

Further,  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  a work  is  spoilt  when 
not  done  at  the  right  time  ? 

No  doubt. 

For  business  is  not  disposed  to  wait  until  the  doer  of  the 
business  is  at  leisure ; but  the  doer  must  follow  up  what  he  is 
doing,  and  make  the  business  his  first  object. 

He  must. 

And  if  so,  we  must  infer  that  all  things  are  produced  more 
plentifully  and  easily  and  of  a better  quality  when  one  man  does 
one  thing  which  is  natural  to  him  and  does  it  at  the  right  time, 
and  leaves  other  things. 

Undoubtedly. 

Then  more  than  four  citizens  will  be  required ; for  the  hus- 
bandman will  not  make  his  own  plough  or  mattock,  or  other 
implements  of  agriculture,  if  they  are  to  be  good  for  anything. 
Neither  will  the  builder  make  his  tools— and  he,  too,  needs 
many ; and  in  like  manner  the  weaver  and  shoemaker. 

True. 

Then  carpenters  and  smiths  and  many  other  artisans  will  be 
sharers  in  our  little  State,  which  is  already  beginning  to  grow  ? 

True. 

Yet  even  if  we  add  neatherds,  shepherds,  and  other  herds- 
men, in  order  that  our  husbandmen  may  have  oxen  to  plough 
with,  and  builders  as  well  as  husbandmen  may  have  draught 
cattle,  and  curriers  and  weavers  fleeces  and  hides — still  our 
State  will  not  be  very  large. 

That  is  true ; yet  neither  will  it  be  a very  small  State  which 
contains  all  these. 

Then,  again,  there  is  the  situation  of  the  city — to  find  a place 
where  nothing  need  be  imported  is  well-nigh  impossible. 

Impossible. 

Then  there  must  be  another  class  of  citizens  who  will  bring 
the  required  supply  from  another  city? 

There  must. 

But  if  the  trader  goes  empty-handed,  having  nothing  which 
they  require  who  would  supply  his  need,  he  will  come  back 
empty-handed. 

That  is  certain. 

And  therefore  what  they  produce  at  home  must  be  not  only 


5° 


PLATO 


/ 

7v 


enough  for  themselves,  but  such  both  in  quantity  and  quality 
as  to  accommodate  those  from  whom  their  wants  are  supplied. 

Very  true. 

Then  more  husbandmen  and  more  artisans  will  be  required? 

They  will. 

Not  to  mention  the  importers  and  exporters,  who  are  called 
merchants  ? 

Yes. 

Then  we  shall  want  merchants? 

We  shall. 

And  if  merchandise  is  to  be  carried  over  the  sea,  skilful 
sailors  will  also  be  needed,  and  in  considerable  numbers  ? 

Yes,  in  considerable  numbers. 

Then,  again,  within  the  city,  how  will  they  exchange  their 
productions?  To  secure  such  an  exchange  was,  as  you  will 
remember,  one  of  our  principal  objects  when  we  formed  them 
into  a society  and  constituted  a State. 

Clearly  they  will  buy  and  sell. 

Then  they  will  need  a market-place,  and  a money-token  for 
purposes  of  exchange. 

Certainly. 

Suppose  now  that  a husbandman  or  an  artisan  brings  some 
production  to  market,  and  he  comes  at  a time  when  there  is  no 
one  to  exchange  with  him — is  he  to  leave  his  calling  and  sit  idle 
in  the  market-place? 

Not  at  all;  he  will  find  people  there  who,  seeing  the  want, 
undertake  the  office  of  salesmen.  In  well-ordered  States  they 
are  commonly  those  who  are  the  weakest  in  bodily  strength, 
and  therefore  of  little  use  for  any  other  purpose ; their  duty  is 
to  be  in  the  market,  and  to  give  money  in  exchange  for  goods 
to  those  who  desire  to  sell,  and  to  take  money  from  those  who 
desire  to  buy. 

This  want,  then,  creates  a class  of  retail-traders  in  our  State. 
Is  not  retailer  the  term  which  is  applied  to  those  who  sit  in 
the  market-place  engaged  in  buying  and  selling,  while  those 
who  wander  from  one  city  to  another  are  called  merchants  ? 

Yes,  he  said. 

And  there  is  another  class  of  servants,  who  are  intellectually 
hardly  on  the  level  of  companionship ; still  they  have  plenty  of 
bodily  strength  for  labor,  which  accordingly  they  sell,  and  are 


THE  REPUBLIC 


5* 


called,  if  I do  not  mistake,  hirelings,  ‘‘  hire  ” being  the  name 
wincii  is  given  to  the  price  of  their  labor. 

True. 

Then  hirelings  will  help  to  make  up  our  population? 

Yes. 

And  now,  Adeimantus,  is  our  State  matured  and  perfected? 

I think  so. 

Where,  then,  is  justice,  and  where  is  injustice,  and  in  what 
part  of  the  State  did  they  spring  up? 

Probably  in  the  dealings  of  these  citizens  with  one  another. 
I cannot  imagine  that  they  are  more  likely  to  be  found  any- 
where else. 

I dare  say  that  you  are  right  in  your  suggestion,  I said ; we 
had  better  think  the  matter  out,  and  not  shrink  from  the 
inquiry. 

Let  us  then  consider,  first  of  all,  what  will  be  their  way  of 
life,  now  that  we  have  thus  established  them.  Will  they  not 
produce  corn  and  wine  and  clothes  and  shoes,  and  build  houses 
for  themselves?  And  when  they  are  housed,  they  will  work, 
in  summer,  commonly,  stripped  and  barefoot,  but  in  winter 
substantially  clothed  and  shod.  They  will  feed  on  barley-meal 
and  flour  of  wheat,  baking  and  kneading  them,  making  noble 
cakes  and  loaves;  these  they  will  serve  up  on  a mat  of  reeds 
or  on  clean  leaves,  themselves  reclining  the  while  upon  beds 
strewn  with  yew  or  myrtle.  And  they  and  their  children  will 
feast,  drinking  of  the  wine  which  they  have  made,  wearing 
garlands  on  their  heads,  and  hymning  the  praises  of  the  gods, 
in  happy  converse  with  one  another.  And  they  will  take  care 
that  their  families  do  not  exceed  their  means;  having  an  eye 
to  poverty  or  war. 

But,  said  Glaucon,  interposing,  you  have  not  given  them 
a relish  to  their  meal.® 

True,  I replied,  I had  forgotten;  of  course  they  must  have 
a relish — salt  and  olives  and  cheese — and  they  will  boil  roots 
and  herbs  such  as  country  people  prepare;  for  a dessert  we 
shall  give  them  figs  ai^pea^_a^  beans ; and  they  will  roast 
myrtle-berries  Stid  acorns  at  the  fire,  drinking  in  moderation. 
And  with  such  a diet  they  may  be  expected  to  live  in  peace  and 
health  to  a good  old  age,  and  bequeath  a similar  life  to  their 
children  after  them. 


52 


PLATO 


Yes,  Socrates,  he  said,  and  if  you  were  providing  for  a city 
of  pigs,  how  else  would  you  feed  the  beasts  ? 

But  what  would  you  have,  Glaucon?  I replied. 

Why,  he  said,  you  should  give  them  the  ordinary  conven- 
iences of  life.  People  who  are  to  be  comfortable  are  accus- 
tomed to  lie  on  sofas,  and  dine  oif  tables,  and  they  should  have 
sauces  and  sweets  in  the  modern  style. 

Yes,  I said,  now  I understand : the  question  which  you  would 
have  me  consider  is,  not  only  how  a State,  but  how  a luxurious 
State  is  created ; and  possibly  there  is  no  harm  in  this,  for  in 
such  a State  we  shall  be  more  likely  to  see  how  justice  and  in- 
justice originate.  In  my  opinion  the  true  and  healthy  consti- 
tution of  the  State  is  the  one  which  I have  described.  But  if 
you  wish  also  to  see  a State  at  fever-heat,  I have  no  objection. 
For  I suspect  that  many  will  not  be  satisfied  with  the  simpler 
way  of  life.  They  will  be  for  adding  sofas  and  tables  and  other 
furniture;  also  dainties  and  perfumes  and  incense  and  courte- 
sans and  cakes,  all  these  not  of  one  sort  only,  but  in  every 
variety.  We  must  go  beyond  the  necessaries  of  which  I was 
at  first  speaking,  such  as  houses  and  clothes  and  shoes ; the  arts 
of  the  painter  and  the  embroiderer  will  have  to  be  set  in  motion, 
and  gold  and  ivory  and  all  sorts  of  materials  must  be  procured. 

True,  he  said. 

Then  we  must  enlarge  our  borders ; for  the  original  healthy 
State  is  no  longer  sufficient.  Now  will  the  city  have  to  fill  and 
swell  with  a multitude  of  callings  which  are  not  required  by 
any  natural  want ; such  as  the  whole  tribe  of  hunters  and  actors, 
of  whom  one  large  class  have  to  do  with  forms  and  colors; 
another  will  be  the  votaries  of  music — poets  and  their  attendant 
train  of  rhapsodists,  players,  dancers,  contractors ; also  makers 
of  divers  kinds  of  articles,  including  women’s  dresses.  And 
we  shall  want  more  servants.  Will  not  tutors  be  also  in  re- 
quest, and  nurses  wet  and  dry,  tirewomen  and  barbers,  as  well 
as  confectioners  and  cooks ; and  swineherds,  too,  who  were  not 
needed  and  therefore  had  no  place  in  the  former  edition  of  our 
State,  but  are  needed  now  ? They  must  not  be  forgotten : and 
there  will  be  animals  of  many  other  kinds,  if  people  eat  them. 

Certainly. 

And  living  in  this  way  we  shall  have  much  greater  need  of 
physicians  than  before  ? 


THE  REPUBLIC 


53 


Much  greater. 

And  the  country  which  was  enough  to  support  the  original 
inhabitants  will  be  too  small  now,  and  not  enough  ? 

Quite  true. 

Then  a slice  of  our  neighbors’  land  will  be  wanted  by  us  for 
pasture  and  tillage,  and  they  will  want  a slice  of  ours,  if,  like 
ourselves,  they  exceed  the  limit  of  necessity,  and  give  them- 
selves up  to  the  unlimited  accumulation  of  wealth  ? 

That,  Socrates,  will  be  inevitable. 

And  so  we  shall  go  to  war,  Glaucon.  Shall  we  not  ? 

Most  certainly,  he  replied. 

Then,  without  determining  as  yet  whether  war  does  good  or 
harm,  thus  much  we  may  affirm,  that  now  we  have  discovered 
war  to  be  derived  from  causes  which  are  also  the  causes  of 
almost  all  the  evils Jn  S^tes,  private  as  well  a^jgublic. 
tJhHbubtedr^^^ 

And  our  State  must  once  more  enlarge;  and  this  time  the 
enlargement  will  be  nothing  short  of  a whole  army,  which  will 
have  to  go  out  and  fight  with  the  invaders  for  all  that  we  have, 
as  well  as  for  the  things  and  persons  whom  we  were  describing 
above. 

Why?  he  said ; are  they  not  capable  of  defending  themselves? 

No,  I said ; not  if  we  were  right  in  the  principle  which  was 
acknowledged  by  all  of  us  when  we  were  framing  the  State. 
The  principle,  as  you  will  remember,  was  that  one  man  cannot 
practise  many  arts  with  success. 

Very  true,  he  said. 

But  is  not  war  an  art? 

Certainly. 

And  an  art  requiring  as  much  attention  as  shoemaking? 

Quite  true. 

And  the  shoemaker  was  not  allowed  by  us  to  be  a husband- 
man, or  a weaver,*  or  a builder — in  order  that  we  might  have 
our  shoes  well  made;  but  to  him  and  to  every  other  worker 
was  assigned  one  work  for  which  he  was  by  nature  fitted,  and 
at  that  he  was  to  continue  working  all  his  life  long  and  at  no 
other ; he  was  not  to  let  opportunities  slip,  and  then  he  would 
become  a good  workman.  Now  nothing  can  be  more  impor- 
tant than  that  the  work  of  a soldier  should  be  well  done.  But 
is  war  an  art  so  easily  acquired  that  a man  may  be  a warrior 


54 


PLATO 


who  is  also  a husbandman,  or  shoemaker,  or  other  artisan ; al- 
though no  one  in  the  world  would  be  a good  dice  or  draught 
player  who  merely  took  up  the  game  as  a recreation,  and  had 
not  from  his  earliest  years  devoted  himself  to  this  and  nothing 
else?  No  tools  will  make  a man  a skilled  workman  or  master 
of  defence,  nor  be  of  any  use  to  him  who  has  not  learned  how  to 
handle  them,  and  has  never  bestowed  any  attention  upon  them. 
How,  then,  will  he  who  takes  up  a shield  or  other  implement 
of  war  become  a good  fighter  all  in  a day,  whether  with  heavy- 
armed or  any  other  kind  of  troops  ? 

Yes,  he  said,  the  tools  which  would  teach  men  their  own  use 
would  be  beyond  price. 

And  the  higher  the  duties  of  the  guardian,  I said,  the  more 
time  and  skill  and  art  and  application  will  T)e  needed  by  him  ? 

No  doubt,  he  replied. 

Will  he  not  also  require  natural  aptitude  for  his  calling? 

Certainly. 

Then  it  will  be  our  duty  to  select,  if  we  can,  natures  which 
are  fitted  for  the  task  of  guarding  the  city  ? 

It  will. 

And  the  selection  will  be  no  easy  matter,  I said ; but  we  must 
be  brave  and  do  our  best. 

We  must. 

Is  not  the  noble  youth  very  like  a well-bred  dog  in  respect 
of  guarding  and  watching? 

What  do  you  mean  ? 

I mean  that  both  of  them  ought  to  be  quick  to  see,  and  swift 
to  overtake  the  enemy  when  they  see  him;  and  strong  too  if, 
when  they  have  caught  him,  they  have  to  fight  with  him. 

All  these  qualities,  he  replied,  will  certainly  be  required  by 
them. 

Well,  and  your  guardian  must  be  brave  if  he  is  to  fight  well? 

Certainly. 

And  is  he  likely  to  be  brave  who  has  no  spirit,  whether  horse 
or  dog  or  any  other  animal?  Have  you  never  observed ‘how 
invincible  and  unconquerable  is  spirit  and  how  the  presence  of 
it  makes  the  soul  of  any  creature  to  be  absolutely  fearless  and 
indomitable? 

I have. 

Then  now  we  have  a clear  notion  of  the  bodily  qualities 
which  are  required  in  the  guardian. 


THE  REPUBLIC 


55 


True. 

And  also  of  the  mental  ones ; his  soul  is  to  be  full  of  spirit  ? 

Yes. 

But  are  not  these  spirited  natures  apt  to  be  savage  with  one 
another,  and  with  everybody  else? 

A difficulty  by  no  means  easy  to  overcome,  he  replied. 

Whereas,  I said,  they  ought  to  be  dangerous  to  their  enemies, 
and  gentle  to  their  friends ; if  not,  they  will  destroy  themselves 
without  waiting  for  their  enemies  to  destroy  them. 

True,  he  said. 

What  is  to  be  done,  then  ? I said ; how  shall  we  find  a gentle 
nature  which  has  also  a great  spirit,  for  the  one  is  the  contra- 
diction of  the  other  ? 

True. 

He  will  not  be  a good  guardian  who  is  wanting  in  either  of 
these  two  qualities;  and  yet  the  combination  of  them  appears 
to  be  impossible ; and  hence  we  must  infer  that  to  be  a good 
guardian  ic  impossible. 

I am  afraid  that  what  you  say  is  true,  he  replied. 

Here  feeling  perplexed  I began  to  think  over  what  had  pre- 
ceded. My  friend,  I said,  no  wonder  that  we  are  in  a perplex- 
ity ; for  we  have  lost  sight  of  the  image  which  we  had  before 
us. 

What  do  you  mean  ? he  said. 

I mean  to  say  that  there  do  exist  natures  gifted  with  those 
opposite  qualities. 

And  where  do  you  find  them  ? 

Many  animals,  I replied,  furnish  examples  of  them;  our 
friend  the  dog  is  a very  good  one : you  know  that  well-bred  dogs 
are  perfectly  gentle  to  their  familiars  and  acquaintances,  and 
the  reverse  to  strangers. 

Yes,  I know. 

Then  there  is  nothing  impossible  or  out  of  the  order  of 
nature  in  our  finding  a guardian  who  has  a similar  combination 
of  qualities? 

Certainly  not. 

Would  not  he  who  is  fitted  to  be  a guardian,  besides  the  spir- 
ited nature,  need  to  have  the  qualities  of  a philosopher? 

I do  not  apprehend  your  meaning. 

The  trait  of  which  I am  speaking,  I replied,  may  be  also  seen 

in  the  dog,  and  is  remarkable  in  the  animal. 

Classics.  Vol.  31—7  - 


5^ 


PLATO 


What  trait? 

Why,  a dog,  whenever  he  sees  a stranger,  is  angry ; when  an 
acquaintance,  he  welcomes  him,  although  the  one  has  never 
done  him  any  harm,  nor  the  other  any  good.  Did  this  never 
strike  you  as  curious  ? 

The  matter  never  struck  me  before ; but  I quite  recognize  the 
truth  of  your  remark. 

And  surely  this  instinct  of  the  dog  is  very  charming;  your 
dog  is  a true  philosopher. 

Why? 

Why,  because  he  distinguishes  the  face  of  a friend  and  of 
an  enemy  only  by  the  criterion  of  knowing  and  not  knowing. 
And  must  not  an  animal  be  a lover  of  learning  who  determines 
what  he  likes  and  dislikes  by  the  test  of  knowledge  and  ignor- 
ance? 

Most  assuredly. 

And  is  not  the  love  of  learning  the  love  of  wisdom,  which 
is  philosophy  ? 

They  are  the  same,  he  replied. 

And  may  we  not  say  confidently  of  man  also,  that  he  who 
is  likely  to  be  gentle  to  his  friends  and  acquaintances,  must 
by  nature  be  a lover  of  wisdom  and  knowledge  ? 

That  we  may  safely  affirm. 

Then  he  who  is  to  be  a really  good  and  noble  guardian  of  the 
State  will  require  to.  unite  in  himself  philosophy  and  spirit  and 
swiftness  and  strength  ? 

Undoubtedly. 

Then  we  have  found  the  desired  natures ; and  now  that  we 
have  found  them,  how  are  they  to  be  reared  and  educated  ? Is 
not  this  an  inquiry  which  may  be  expected  to  throw  light  on 
the  greater  inquiry  which  is  our  final  end — How  do  justice  and  * 
injustice  grow  up  in  States?  for  we  do  not  want  either  to  omit 
what  is  to  the  point  or  to  draw  out  the  argument  to  an  incon- 
venient length. 

Adeimantus  thought  that  the  inquiry  would  be  of  great  ser- 
vice to  us. 

Then,  I said,  my  dear  friend,  the  task  must  not  be  given  up, 
even  if  somewhat  long. 

Certainly  not. 

Come  then,  and  let  us  pass  a leisure  hour  in  story-telling,  and 
our  story  shall  be  the  education  of  our  heroes. 


THE  REPUBLIC 


57 


By  all  means. 

And  what  shall  be  their  education?  Can  we  find  a better 
than  the  traditional  sort? — and  this  has  two  divisions,  gym- 
nastics for  the  body,  and  music  for  the  soul. 

True. 

Shall  we  begin  education  with  music,  and  go  on  to  gymnas- 
tics afterward? 

By  all  means. 

And  when  you  speak  of  music,  do  you  include  literature  or 
not? 

I do. 

And  literature  may  be  either  true  or  false? 


Yes. 


And  the  young  should  be  trained  in  both  kinds,  and  we  be- 
gin with  the  false  ? 

I do  not  understand  your  meaning,  he  said. 

You  knpw,  I said,  that  we  begin  by  telling  children  stories 
which,  though  not  wholly  destitute  of  truth,  are  in  the  main 
fictitious;  and  these  stories  are  told  them  when  they  are  not 
of  an  age  to  learn  gymnastics. 

Very  true. 

That  was  my  meaning  when  I said  that  we  must  teach  music 
before  gymnastics. 

Quite  right,  he  said. 

You  know  also  that  the  beginning  is  the  most  important  part 
of  any  work,  especially  in  the  case  of  a young  and  tender  thing ; 
for  that  is  the  time  at  which  the  character  is  being  formed  and 
the  desired  impression  is  more  readily  taken. 

Quite  true. 

And  shall  we  just  carelessly  allow  children  to  hear  any  casual 
tales  which  may  be  devised  by  casual  persons,  and  to  receive 
into  their  minds  ideas  for  the  most  part  the  very  opposite  of 
those  which  we  should  wish  them  to  have  when  they  are 
grown  up? 

We  cannot. 

Then  the  first  thing  will  be  to  establish  a censorship  of  the 


\ writers  of  fiction,  and  let  the  censors  receive  any  tale  of  fiction 
which  is  good,  and  reject  the  bad ; and  we  will  desire  mothers 
and  nurses  to  tell  their  children  the  authorized  ones  only.  Let 
them  fashion  the  mind  with  such  tales,  even  more  fondly  than 


58 


PLATO 


they  mould  the  body  with  their  hands ; but  most  of  those  which 
are  now  in  use  must  be  discarded. 

Of  what  tales  are  you  speaking?  he  said. 

You  may  find  a model  of  the  lesser  in  the  greater,  I said;  for 
they  are  necessarily  of  the  same  type,  and  there  is  the  same 
spirit  in  both  of  them. 

Very  likely,  he  replied;  but  I do  not  as  yet  know  what  you 
would  term  the  greater. 

Those,  I said,  which  are  narrated  by  Homer  and  Hesiod, 
and  the  rest  of  the  poets,  who  have  ever  been  the  great  story- 
tellers of  mankind. 

But  which  stories  do  you  mean,  he  said ; and  what  fault  do 
you  find  with  them  ? 

A fault  which  is  most  serious,  I said ; the  fault  of  telling  a 
lie,  and,  what  is  more,  a bad  lie. 

But  when  is  this  fault  committed? 

Whenever  an  erroneous  representation  is  made  of  the  nature 
of  gods  and  heroes — as  when  a painter  paints  a portrait  not 
having  the  shadow  of  a likeness  to  the  original. 

Yes,  he  said,  that  sort  of  thing  is  certainly  very  blamable; 
but  what  are  the  stories  which  you  mean  ? 

First  of  all,  I said,  there  was  that  greatest  of  all  lies  in  high 
places,  which  the  poet  told  about  Uranus,  and  which  was  a bad 
lie  too — I mean  what  Hesiod  says  that  Uranus  did,  and  how 
Cronus  retaliated  on  him.^  The  doings  of  Cronus,  and  the 
sufferings  which  in  turn  his  son  inflicted  upon  him,  even  if  they 
were  true,  ought  certainly  not  to  be  lightly  told  to  young  and 
thoughtless  persons;  if  possible,  they  had  better  be  buried  In 
silence.  But  if  there  is  an  absolute  necessity  for  their  mention, 
a chosen  few  might  hear  them  in  a mystery,  and  they  should 
sacrifice  not  a common  [Eleusinian]  pig,  but  some  huge  and 
unprocurable  victim ; and  then  the  number  of  the  hearers  will 
be  very  few  indeed. 

Why,  yes,  said  he,  those  stories  are  extremely  objectionable. 

Yes,  Adeimantus,  they  are  stories  not  to  be  repeated  in  our 
State ; the  young  man  should  not  be  told  that  in  committing 
the  worst  of  crimes  he  is  far  from  doing  anything  outrageous ; 
and  that  even  if  he  chastises  his  father  when  he  does  wrong, 
in  whatever  manner,  he  will  only  be  following  the  example  of 
the  first  and  greatest  among  the  gods. 

> Hesiod,  “ Theogony,*’  154, 459. 


THE  REPUBLIC 


59 

I entirely  agree  with  you,  he  said ; in  my  opinion  those  stories 
are  quite  unfit  to  be  repeated. 

Neither,  if  we  mean  our  future  guardians  to  regard  the  habit 
of  quarrelling  among  themselves  as  of  all  things  the  basest, 
should  any  woid  be  said  to  them  of  the  wars  in  heaven,  and 
of  the  plots  and  fightings  of  the  gods  against  one  another,  for 
they  are  not  true.  No,  we  shall  never  mention  the  battles  of 
the  giants,  or  let  them  be  embroidered  on  garments;  and  we 
shall  be  silent  about  the  innumerable  other  quarrels  of  gods 
and  heroes  with  their  friends  and  relatives.  If  they  would 
only  believe  us  we  would  tell  them  that  quarrelling  is  unholy, 
and  that  never  up  to  this  time  has  there  been  any  quarrel  be- 
tween citizens;  this  is  what  old  men  and  old  women  should 
begin  by  telling  children;  and  when  they  grow  up,  the  poets 
also  should  be  told  to  compose  them  in  a similar  spirit.^  But 
the  narrative  of  Hephaestus  binding  Here  his  mother,  or  how 
on  another  occasion  Zeus  sent  him  flying  for  taking  her  part 
when  she  was  being  beaten,  and  all  the  battles  of  the  gods  in 
Homer — these  tales  must  not  be  admitted  into  our  State, 
whether  they  are  supposed  to  have  an  allegorical  meaning  or 
pot.  For  a young  person  cannot  judge  what  is  allegorical  andj 
what  is  literal ; anything  that  he  receives  into  his  mind  at  thar 
Xge  is  likely  to  become  indelible  and  unalterable ; and  therefore 
it  is  most  important  that  the  tales  which  the  young  first  hear 
should  be  models  of  virtuous  thoughts. 

There  you  are  right,  he  replied;  but  if  anyone  asks  where 
are  such  models  to  be  found  and  of  what  tales  are  you  speak- 
ing— how  shall  we  answer  him  ? 

I said  to  him.  You  and  I,  Adeimantus,  at  this  moment  are  not 
poets,  but  founders  of  a State:  now  the  founders  of  a State 
ought  to  know  the  general  forms  in  which  poets  should  cast 
their  tales,  and  the  limits  which  must  be  observed  by  them,  but 
to  make  the  tales  is  not  their  business. 

Very  true,  he  said;  but  what  are  these  forms  of  theology 
which  you  mean  ? 

Something  of  this  kind,  I replied : God  is  always  to  be  rep- 
resented as  he  truly  is,  whatever  be  the  sort  of  poetry,  epic,  lyric, 
or  tragic,  in  which  the  representation  is  given. 

Right. 


* Placing  .the  comma  after  ypavcrt,  and  not  after  yiyvoiiivoit. 


6o 


PLATO 


And  is  he  not  truly  good?  and  must  he  not  be  represented 
as  such? 

Certainly. 

And  no  good  thing  is  hurtful  ? 

No,  indeed. 

And  that  which  is  not  hurtful  hurts  not? 

Certainly  not. 

And  that  which  hurts  not  does  no  evil  ? 

No. 

And  can  that  which  does  no  evil  be  a cause  of  evil? 

Impossible. 

And  the  good  is  advantageous  ? 

Yes. 

And  therefore  the  cause  of  well-being? 

Yes. 

It  follows,  therefore,  that  the  good  is  not  the  cause  of  all 
things,  but  of  the  good  only  ? 

Assuredly. 

Then  God,  if  he  be  good,  is  not  the  author  of  all  things,  as 
the  many  assert,  but  he  is  the  cause  of  a few  things  only,  and 
not  of  most  things  that  occur  to  men.  For  few  are  the  goods 
of  human  life,  and  many  are  the  evils,  and  the  good  is  to  be 
attributed  to  God  alone ; of  the  evils  the  causes  are  to  be  sought 
elsewhere,  and  not  in  him. 

That  appears  to  me  to  be  most  true,  he  said. 

Then  we  must  not  listen  to  Homer  or  to  any  other  poet  who 
is  guilty  of  the  folly  of  saying  that  two  casks 

“ Lie  at  the  threshold  of  Zeus,  full  of  lots,  one  of  good,  the  other  of 
evil  lots,'*  * 

and  that  he  to  whom  Zeus  gives  a mixture  of  the  two 
“ Sometimes  meets  with  evil  fortune,  at  other  times  with  good ; 
but  that  he  to  whom  is  given  the  cup  of  unmingled  ill, 

“ Him  wild  hunger  drives  o'er  the  beauteous  earth.'* 

And  again — 

‘‘  Zeus,  who  is  the  dispenser  of  good  and  evil  to  us." 

* “ Iliad,”  xxiv.  527. 


THE  REPUBLIC 


6i 


And  if  anyone  asserts  that  the  violation  of  oaths  and  treaties, 
which  was  really  the  work  of  Pandarus,^  was  brought  about 
by  Athene  and  Zeus,  or  that  the  strife  and  contention  of  the 
gods  were  instigated  by  Themis  and  Zeus,^  he  shall  not  have 
our  approval ; neither  will  we  allow  our  young  men  to  hear  the 
words  of  ^schylus,  that 

*•  God  plants  guilt  among  men  when  he  desires  utterly  to  destroy  a house.** 

And  if  a poet  writes  of  the  sufferings  of  Niobe — ^the  subject 
of  the  tragedy  in  which  these  iambic  verses  occur — or  of  the 
house  of  Pelops,  or  of  the  Trojan  War  or  on  any  similar  theme, 
either  we  must  not  permit  him  to  say  that  these  are  the  works 
of  God,  or  if  they  are  of  God,  he  must  devise  some  explanation 
of  them  such  as  we  are  seeking : he  must  say  that  God  did  what 
was  just  and  right,  and  they  were  the  better  for  being  punished ; 
but  that  those  who  are  punished  are  miserable,  and  that  God  is 
the  author  of  their  misery — ^the  poet  is  not  to  be  permitted  to 
say ; though  he  may  say  that  the  wicked  are  miserable  because 
they  require  to  be  punished,  and  are  benefited  by  receiving  pun- 
ishment from  God ; but  that  God  being  good  is  the  author  of 
evil  to  anyone  is  to  be  strenuously  denied,  and  not  to  be  said 
or  sung  or  heard  in  verse  or  prose  by  anyone  whether  old  or 
young  in  any  well-ordered  commonwealth.  Such  a fiction  is 
suicidal,  ruinous,  impious. 

I agree  with  you,  he  replied,  and  am  ready  to  give  my  assent 
to  the  law. 

Let  this  then  be  one  of  our  rules  and  principles  concerning 
the  gods,  to  which  our  poets  and  reciters  will  be  expected  to 
conform — that  God  is  not  the  author  of  all  things,  but  of  good 
only. 

That  will  do,  he  said. 

And  what  do  you  think  of  a second  principle  ? Shall  I ask 
you  whether  God  is  a magician,  and  of  a nature  to  appear  in- 
sidiously now  i:i  one  shape,  and  now  in  another — sometimes 
himself  changing  and  passing  into  many  forms,  sometimes  de- 
ceiving us  '^^ith  the  semblance  of  such  transformations;  or  is 
he  one  an  i the  same  immutably  fixed  in  his  own  proper  image  ? 

I cannot  answer  you,  he  said,  without  more  thought. 

Well,  j said;  but  if  we  suppose  a change  in  anything,  that 

* “ Iliad,**  ii.  69.  * “ Iliad,”  xx. 


62 


PLATO 


change  must  be  effected  either  by  the  thing  itself  or  by  some 
- other  thing  ? 

Most  certainly. 

And  things  which  are  at  their  best  are  also  least  liable  to  be 
altered  or  discomposed ; for  example,  when  healthiest  and 
strongest,  the  human  frame  is  least  liable  to  be  affected  by 
meats  and  drinks,  and  the  plant  which  is  in  the  fullest  vigor  also 
suffers  least  from  winds  or  the  heat  of  the  sun  or  any  similar 
causes. 

Of  course. 

And  will  not  the  bravest  and  wisest  soul  be  least  confused 
or  deranged  by  any  external  influence? 

True. 

And  the  same  principle,  as  I should  suppose,  applies  to  all 
composite  things — furniture,  houses,  garments : when  good  and 
well  made,  they  are  least  altered  by  time  and  circumstances. 

Very  true. 

Then  everything  which  is  good,  whether  made  by  art  or 
nature,  or  both,  is  least  liable  to  suffer  change  from  without  ? 

True. 

But  surely  God  and  the  things  of  God  are  in  every  way  per- 
fect ? 

Of  course  they  are. 

Then  he  can  hardly  be  compelled  by  external  influence  to 
take  many  shapes  ? 

He  cannot. 

But  may  he  not  change  and  transform  himself  ? 

Clearly,  he  said,  that  must  be  the  case  if  he  is  changed  at  all. 

And  will  he  then  change  himself  for  the  better  and  fairer, 
or  for  the  worse  and  more  unsightly  r 

If  he  change  at  all  he  can  only  change  for  the  worse,  for  we 
cannot  suppose  him  to  be  deficient  either  in  virtue  or  beauty. 

Very  true,  Adeimantus;  but  then,  would  anyone,  whether 
God  or  man,  desire  to  make  himself  worse  ? 

Impossible. 

Then  it  is  impossible  that  God  should  ever  be  willing  to 
change ; being,  as  is  supposed,  the  fairest  and  best  "^hat  is  con- 
ceivable, every  God  remains  absolutely  and  forever  in  his  own 
form. 

That  necessarily  follows,' he  said,  in  my  judgment. 


THE  REPUBLIC  63 

Then,  I said,  my  dear  friend,  let  none  of  the  poets  tell  us 
that 

“ The  gods,  taking  the  disguise  of  strangers  from  other  lands,  walk  up 
and  down  cities  in  all  sorts  of  forms ; ” * 

and  let  no  one  slander  Proteus  and  Thetis,  neither  let  anyone, 
either  in  tragedy  or  in  any  other  kind  of  poetry,  introduce  Here 
disguised  in  the  likeness  of  a priestess  asking  an  alms 

“ For  the  life-giving  daughters  of  Inachus  the  river  of  Argos 

— let  us  have  no  more  lies  of  that  sort.  Neither  must  we  have 
mothers  under  the  influence  of  the  poets  scaring  their  children 
with  a bad  version  of  these  myths — ^telling  how  certain  gods, 
as  they  say,  “ Go  about  by  night  in  the  likeness  of  so  many 
strangers  and  in  divers  forms ; ” but  let  them  take  heed  lest  they 
make  cowards  of  their  children,  and  at  the  same  time  speak 
blasphemy  against  the  gods. 

Heaven  forbid,  he  said. 

But  although  the  gods  are  themselves  unchangeable,  still  by 
witchcraft  and  deception  they  may  make  us  think  that  they  ap- 
pear in  various  forms? 

Perhaps,  he  replied. 

Well,  but  can  you  imagine  that  God  will  be  willing  to  lie, 
whether  in  word  or  deed,  or  to  put  forth  a phantom  of  himself  ? 

I cannot  say,  he  replied. 

Do  you  not  know,  I said,  that  the  true  lie,  if  such  an  expres- 
sion may  be  allowed,  is  hated  of  gods  and  men  ? 

What  do  you  mean  ? he  said. 

I mean  that  no  one  is  willingly  deceived  in  that  which  is  the 
truest  and  highest  part  of  himself,  or  about  the  truest  and 
highest  matters;  there,  above  all,  he  is  most  afraid  of  a lie 
having  possession  of  him. 

Still,  he  said,  I do  not  comprehend  you. 

The  reason  is,  I replied,  that  you  attribute  some  profound 
meaning  to  my  words ; but  I am  only  saying  that  deception,  or 
being  deceived  or  uninformed  about  the  highest  realities  in  the 
highest  part  of  themselves,  which  is  the  soul,  and  in  that  part 
of  them  to  have  and  to  hold  the  lie,  is  what  mankind  least  like ; 
—•that,  I say,  is  what  they  utterly  detest. 

* Horn.  “ Odyssey,**  xvii.  485* 


64 


PLATO 


There  is  nothing  more  hateful  to  them. 

And,  as  I was  just  now  remarking,  this  ignorance  in  the  soul 
of  him  who  is  deceived  may  be  called  the  true  lie;  for  the  lie 
in  words  is  only  a kind  of  imitation  and  shadowy  image  of  a 
previous  affection  of  the  soul,  not  pure  unadulterated  false- 
hood. Am  I not  right  ? 

Perfectly  right. 

The  true  lie  is  hated  not  only  by  the  gods,  but  also  by  men  ? 

Yes. 

Whereas  the  lie  in  words  is  in  certain  cases  useful  and  not 
hateful ; in  dealing  with  enemies — that  would  be  an  instance ; 
or  again,  when  those  whom  we  call  our  friends  in  a fit  of  mad- 
ness or  illusion  are  going  to  do  some  harm,  then  it  is  useful  and 
is  a sort  of  medicine  or  preventive ; also  in  the  tales  of  mythol- 
ogy, of  which  we  were  just  nov/  speaking — because  we  do  not 
know  the  truth  about  ancient  times,  we  make  falsehood  as  much 
like  truth  as  we  can,  and  so  turn  it  to  account. 

Very  true,  he  said. 

But  can  any  of  these  reasons  apply  to  God?  Can  we  sup- 
pose that  he  is  ignorant  of  antiquity,  and  therefore  has  recourse 
to  invention? 

That  would  be  ridiculous,  he  said. 

Then  the  lying  poet  has  no  place  in  our  idea  of  God? 

I should  say  not. 

Or  perhaps  he  may  tell  a lie  because  he  is  afraid  of  enemies  ? 

That  is  inconceivable. 

But  he  may  have  friends  who  are  senseless  or  mad  ? 

But  no  mad  or  senseless  person  can  be  a friend  of  God. 

Then  no  motive  can  be  imagined  why  God  should  lie  ? 

None  whatever. 

Then  the  superhuman,  and  divine,  is  absolutely  incapable  of 
falsehood  ? 

Yes. 

Then  is  God  perfectly  simple  and  true  both  in  word  and 
deed ; ^ he  changes  not ; he  deceives  not,  either  by  sign  or  word, 
by  dream  or  waking  vision. 

Your  thoughts,  he  said,  are  the  reflection  of  my  own. 

You  agree  with  me  then,  I said,  that  this  is  the  second  type 
or  form  in  which  we  should  write  and  speak  about  divine 

* Omitting  aara  iftavracriat. 


THE  REPUBLIC  65 

things.  The  gods  are  not  magicians  who  transform  them- 
selves, neither  do  they  deceive  mankind  in  any  way. 

I grant  that. 

Then,  although  we  are  admirers  of  Homer,  we  do  not  admire 
the  lying  dream  which  Zeus  sends  to  Agamemnon ; neither  will 
we  praise  the  verses  of  .^schylus  in  which  Thetis  says  that 
Apollo  at  her  nuptials 

“‘was  celebrating  in  song  her  fair  progeny  whose  days  were  to  be  long, 
and  to  know  no  sickness.  And  when  he  had  spoken  of  my  lot  as  in  all 
things  blessed  of  heaven,  he  raised  a note  of  triumph  and  cheered  my  soul. 
And  I thought  that  the  word  of  Phoebus,  being  divine  and  full  of  prophecy, 
would  not  fail.  And  now  he  himself  who  uttered  the  strain,  he  who  was 
present  at  the  banquet,  and  who  said  this — he  it  is  who  has  slain  my 
son.*'  ^ 

t 

These  are  the  kind  of  sentiments  about  the  gods  which  will 
arouse  our  anger;  and  he  who  utters  them  shall  be  refused  a 
chorus;  neither  shall  we  allow  teachers  to  make  use  of  them 
in  the  instruction  of  the  young,  meaning,  as  we  do,  that  our 
guardians,  as  far  as  men  can  be,  should  be  true  worshippers 
, of  the  gods  and  like  them. 

'"■'I  entirely  agree,  he  said,  in  these  principles,  and  promise 
to  make  them  my  laws. 


* From  a lost  piay. 


BOOK  III 


THE  ARTS  IN  EDUCATION 
Socrates,  Adeimantus 

SUCH,  then,  I said,  are  our  principles  of  theology — some 
tales  are  to  be  told,  and  others  are  not  to  be  told  to  our 
disciples  from  their  youth  upward^  if  we  mean  them  to 
honor  the  gods  and  their  parents,  and  to  value  friendship  with 
one  another. 

Yes;  and  I think  that  our  principles  are  right,  he  said. 

But  if  they  are  to  be  courageous,  must  they  not  learn  other 
lessons  beside  these,  and  lessons  of  such  a kind  as  will  take 
away  the  fear  of  death?  Can  any  man  be  courageous  who 
has  the  fear  of  death  in  him  ? 

Certainly  not,  he  said. 

And  can  he  be  fearless  of  death,  or  will  he  choose  death  in 
battle  rather  than  defeat  and  slavery,  who  believes  the  world 
below  to  be  real  and  terrible? 

Impossible. 

Then  we  must  assume  a control  over  the  narrators  of  this 
class  of  tales  as  well  as  over  the  others,  and  beg  them  not  sim- 
ply to  revile,  but  rather  to  commend  the  world  below,  intimat- 
ing to  them  that  their  descriptions  are  untrue,  and  will  do  harm 
to  our  future  warriors. 

That  will  be  our  duty^  he  said. 

Then,  I said,  we  shall  have  to  obliterate  many  obnoxious 
passages,  beginning  with  the  verses 

I would  rather  be  a serf  on  the  land  of  a poor  and  portionless 
man  than  rule  over  all  the  dead  who  have  come  to  naught.”  ^ 

* “ Odyssey,**  xi.  489. 

66 


THE  REPUBLIC  67 

We  must  also  expunge  the  verse  which  tells  us  how  Pluto 
feared 

‘‘  Lest  the  mansions  grim  and  squalid  which  the  gods  abhor  should 
be  seen  both  of  mortals  and  immortals/'  ^ 

And  again: 

O heavens!  verily  in  the  house  of  Hades  there  is  soul  and  ghostly 
form  but  no  mind  at  all ! ” ^ 

Again  of  Tiresias: 

''  [To  him  even  after  death  did  Persephone  grant  mind,]  that  he 
alone  should  be  wise ; but  the  other  souls  are  flitting  shades/'  ^ 

Again : 

‘‘  The  soul  flying  from  the  limbs  had  gone  to  Hades,  lamenting  her 
fate,  leaving  manhood  and  youth."  ^ 

Again : 

And  the  soul,  with  shrilling  cry,  passed  like  smoke  beneath  the 
earth."  5 

And, 

**  As  bats  in  hollow  of  mystic  cavern,  whenever  any  of  them  has 
dropped  out  of  the  string  and  falls  from  the  rock,  fly  shrilling  and 
cling  to  one  another,  so  did  they  with  shrilling  cry  hold  together  as 
they  moved."  ® 

And  we  must  beg  Homer  and  the  other  poets  not  to  be  angry 
if  we  strike  out  these  and  similar  passages,  not  because  they 
are  unpoetical,  or  unattractive  to  the  popular  ear,  but  because 
the  greater  the  poetical  charm  of  them,  the  less  are  they  meet 
for  the  ears  of  boys  and  men  who  are  meant  to  be  free,  and  who 
should  fear  slavery  more  than  death. 

Undoubtedly. 

Also  we  shall  have  to  reject  all  the  terrible  and  appalling 
names  which  describe  the  world  below — Cocytus  and  Styx, 
ghosts  under  the  earth,  and  sapless  shades,  and  any  similar 
words  of  which  the  very  mention  causes  a shudder  to  pass 

> “ Iliad,”  XX.  64.  * Iliad,”  xxiii.  103.  3 ” Odyssey,”  x.  495. 

* ‘‘  Iliad,”  xvi.  856.  * “ Iliad,”  xxiii.  loo.  « ” Odyssey,”  xxiv.  6. 


68 


PLATO 


through  the  inmost  soul  of  him  who  hears  them.  I do  not  say 
that  these  horrible  stories  may  not  have  a use  of  some  kind; 
but  there  is  a danger  that  the  nerves  of  our  guardians  may  be 
rendered  too  excitable  and  effeminate  by  them. 

There  is  a real  danger,  he  said. 

Then  we  must  have  no  more  of  them. 

True. 

Another  and  a nobler  strain  must  be  composed  and  sung 
by  us. 

Clearly. 

And  shall  we  proceed  to  get  rid  of  the  weepings  and  wail- 
ings of  famous  men  ? 

They  will  go  with  the  rest. 

But  shall  we  be  right  in  getting  rid  of  them  ? Reflect : our 
principle  is  that  the  good  man  will  not  consider  death  terrible 
to  any  other  good  man  who  is  his  comrade. 

Yes;  that  is  our  principle. 

And  therefore  he  will  not  sorrow  for  his  departed  friend  as 
though  he  had  suffered  anything  terrible  ? 

He  will  not. 

Such  an  one,  as  we  further  maintain,  is  sufficient  for  himself 
and  his  own  happiness,  and  therefore  is  least  in  need  of  other 
men. 

True,  he  said. 

And  for  this  reason  the  loss  of  a son  or  brother,  or  the  de- 
privation of  fortune,  is  to  him  of  all  men  least  terrible. 

Assuredly. 

And  therefore  he  will  be  least  likely  to  lament,  and  will  bear 
with  the  greatest  equanimity  any  misfortune  of  this  sort  which 
may  befall  him. 

Yes,  he  will  feel  such  a misfortune  far  less  than  another. 

Then  we  shall  be  right  in  getting  rid  of  the  lamentations  of 
famous  men,  and  making  them  over  to  women  (and  not  even 
to  women  who  are  good  for  anything),  or  to  men  of  a baser 
sort,  that  those  who  are  being  educated  by  us  to  be  the  de- 
fenders of  their  country  may  scorn  to  do  the  like. 

That  will  be  very  right. 

Then  we  will  once  more  entreat  Homer  and  the  other  poets 
not  to  depict  Achilles/  who  is  the  son  of  a goddess,  first  lying 

» “ Iliad,’*  xxiv.  lo. 


THE  REPUBLIC 


69 


on  his  side,  then  on  his  back,  and  then  on  his  face ; then  starting 
up  and  sailing  in  a frenzy  along  the  shores  of  the  barren  sea ; 
now  taking  the  sooty  ashes  in  both  his  hands  ^ and  pouring 
them  over  his  head,  or  weeping  and  wailing  in  the  various 
modes  which  Homer  has  delineated.  Nor  should  he  describe 
Priam,  the  kinsman  of  the  gods,  as  praying  and  beseeching. 

Rolling  in  the  dirt,  calling  each  man  loudly  by  his  name.'’  2 

Still  more  earnestly  will  we  beg  of  him  at  all  events  not  to  in- 
troduce the  gods  lamenting  and  saying, 

‘‘  Alas ! my  misery ! Alas ! that  I bore  the  bravest  to  my  sorrow.”  ® 

But  if  he  must  introduce  the  gods,  at  any  rate  let  him  not  dare 
so  completely  to  misrepresent  the  greatest  of  the  gods,  as  to 
make  him  say — 

“ O heavens!  with  my  eyes  verily  I behold  a dear  friend  of  mine 
chased  round  and  round  the  city,  and  my  heart  is  sorrowful.”  - 

Or  again : 

Woe  is  me  that  I am  fated  to  have  Sarpedon,  dearest  of  men  to 
me,  subdued  at  the  hands  of  Patroclus  the  son  of  Menoetius.”  ^ 

For  if,  my  sweet  Adeimantus,  our  youth  seriously  listen  to 
such  unworthy  representations  of  the  gods,  instead  of  laughing 
at  them  as  they  ought,  hardly  will  any  of  them  deem  that  he 
himself,  being  but  a man,  can  be  dishonored  by  similar  actions ; 
neither  will  he  rebuke  any  inclination  which  may  arise  in  his 
mind  to  say  and  do  the  like.  And  instead  of  having  any  shame 
or  self-control,  he  will  be  always  whining  and  lamenting  on 
slight  occasions. 

Yes,  he  said,  that  is  most  true. 

Yes,  I replied ; but  that  surely  is  what  ought  not  to  be,  as  the 
argument  has  just  proved  to  us;  and  by  that  proof  we  must 
abide  until  it  is  disproved  by  a better. 

It  ought  not  to  be. 

Neither  ought  our  guardians  to  be  given  to  laughter.  For\ 
a fit  of  laughter  which  has  been  indulged  to  excess  almost  al-"^ 
ways  produces  a violent  reaction. 

1 “ Iliad,”  xviii.  23.  « ” Iliad,”  xxii.  414. 

3 **  Iliad,”  xviii.  54.  ■*  ” Iliad,”  xxii.  168.  » “ Iliad,”  xvi.  433. 


70 


PLATO 


So  I believe. 

Then  persons  of  worth,  even  if  only  mortal  men,  must  not 
be  represented  as  overcome  by  laughter,  and  still  less  must  such 
a representation  of  the  gods  be  allowed. 

Still  less  of  the  gods,  as  you  say,  he  replied. 

Then  we  shall  not  suffer  such  an  expression  to  be  used  about 
the  gods  as  that  of  Homer  when  he  describes  how 

Inextinguishable  laughter  arose  among  the  blessed  gods,  when 
they  saw  Hephaestus  bustling  about  the  mansion.”  ^ 

On  your  views^  we  must  not  admit  them. 

On  my  views,  if  you  like  to  father  them  on  me ; that  we  must 
not  admit  them  is  certain. 

Again,  truth  should  be  highly  valued;  if,  as  we  were  saying, 
a lie  is  useless  to  the  gods,  and  useful  only  as  a medicine  to 
men,  then  the  use  of  such  medicines  should  be  restricted  to 
physicians ; private  individuals  have  no  business  with  them. 

Clearly  not,  he  said. 

Then  if  anyone  at  all  is  to  have  the  privilege  of  lying,  the 
rulers  of  the  State  should  be  the  persons;  and  they,  in  their 
dealings  either  with  enemies  or  with  their  own  citizens,  may  be 
allowed  to  lie  for  the  public  good.  But  nobody  else  should 
meddle  with  anything  of  the  kind ; and  although  the  rulers  have 
this  privilege,  for  a private  man  to  lie  to  them  in  return  is  to 
be  deemed  a more  heinous  fault  than  for  the  patient  or  the  pupil 
of  a gymnasium  not  to  speak  the  truth  about  his  own  bodily 
illnesses  to  the  physician  or  to  the  trainer,  or  for  a sailor  not  to 
tell  the  captain  what  is  happening  about  the  ship  and  the  rest 
of  the  crew,  and  how  things  are  going  with  himself  or  his 
fellow-sailors. 

Most  true,  he  said. 

If,  then,  the  ruler  catches  anybody  beside  himself  lying  in 
the  State, 

‘‘  Any  of  the  craftsmen,  whether  he  be  priest  or  physician  or 
carpenter,”  2 

he  will  punish  him  for  introducing  a practice  which  is  equally 
subversive  and  destructive  of  ship  or  State. 

* “ Odyssey,”  xvii.  383  et  seq. 


1 “ Iliad,”  i.  599. 


THE  REPUBLIC 


71 


Most  certainly,  he  said,  if  cur  idea  of  the  State  is  ever  car- 
ried out.^ 

^ In  the  next  place  our  youth  must  be  temperate  ? 

Certainly. 

Are  not  the  chief  elements  of  temperance,  speaking  gener- 
ally, obedience  to  commanders  and  self-control  in  sensual 
pleasures  ? 

True. 

Then  we  shall  approve  such  language  as  that  of  Diomede  in 
Homer, 

''  Friend  sit  still  and  obey  my  word,’'  2 
and  the  verses  which  follow, 

“ The  Greeks  marched  breathing  prowess,”  * 

. . in  silent  awe  of  their  leaders.”  * 

and  other  sentiments  of  the  same  kind. 

We  shall. 

What  of  this  line, 

“ O heavy  with  wine,  who  hast  the  eyes  of  a dog  and  the  heart  of 
a stag,”  ® 

and  of  the  words  which  follow?  Would  you  say  that  these, 
or  any  similar  impertinences  which  private  individuals  are  sup- 
posed to  address  to  their  rulers^  whether  in  verse  or  prose,  are 
well  or  ill  spoken  ? 

They  are  ill  spoken. 

They  may  very  possibly  afford  some  amusement,  but  they  do 
not  conduce  to  temperance.  And  therefore  they  are  likely  to 
do  harm  to  our  young  men — you  would  agree  with  me  there  ? 

Yes. 

And  then,  again,  to  make  the  wisest  of  men  say  that  nothing 
in  his  opinion  is  more  glorious  than 

When  the  tables  are  full  of  bread  and  meat,  and  the  cup-bearer 
carries  round  wine  which  he  draws  from  the  bowl  and  pours  into  the 
cups ; ” ® 

* Or,  “ if  his  words  are  accompanied  by  actions.”  * Iliad,”  iv.  412. 

8 “Odyssey,”  iii.  8.  ♦ ” Odyssey,”  iv.  431.  8 “ odyssey,”  i.  225.  • ” Odyssey,”  ix.  8. 


72 


PLATO 


is  it  fit  or  conducive  to  temperance  for  a young  man  to  hear 
such  words  ? or  the  verse 

The  saddest  of  fates  is  to  die  and  meet  destiny  from  hunger  ” ? i 

What  would  you  say  again  to  the  tale  of  Zeus,  who,  while  other 
gods  and  men  were  asleep  and  he  the  only  person  awake,  lay 
devising  plans,  but  forgot  them  all  in  a moment  through  his 
lust,  and  was  so  completely  overcome  at  the  sight  of  Here  that 
he  would  not  even  go  into  the  hut,  but  wanted  to  lie  with  her  on 
the  ground,  declaring  that  he  had  never  been  in  such  a state  of 
rapture  before,  even  when  they  first  met  one  another, 

‘‘  Without  the  knowledge  of  their  parents  ” 2 

or  that  other  tale  of  how  Hephaestus^  because  of  similar  goings 
on,  cast  a chain  around  Ares  and  Aphrodite  ? ® 

Indeed,  he  said,  i am  strongly  of  opinion  that  they  ought  not 
to  hear  that  sort  of  thing. 

But  any  deeds  of  endurance  which  are  done  or  told  by  famous 
men,  these  they  ought  to  see  and  hear ; as,  for  example,  what 
is  said  in  the  verses, 

“He  smote  his  breast,  and  thus  reproached  his  heart. 

Endure,  my  heart ; far  worse  hast  thou  endured ! ” ^ 

Certainly,  he  said. 

In  the  next  place,  we  must  not  let  them  be  receivers  of  gifts 
or  lovers  of  money. 

Certainly  not. 

Neither  must  we  sing  to  them  of 

“ Gifts  persuading  gods,  and  persuading  reverend  kings.”  ® 

Neither  is  Phoenix,  the  tutor  of  Achilles,  to  be  approved  or 
deemed  to  have  given  his  pupil  good  counsel  when  he  told  him 
that  he  should  take  the  gifts  of  the  Greeks  and  assist  them ; ® 
but  that  without  a gift  he  should  not  lay  aside  his  anger. 
Neither  will  we  believe  or  acknowledge  Achilles  himself  to 
have  been  such  a lover  of  money  that  he  took  Agamemnon's 
gifts,  or  that  when  he  had  received  payment  he  restored  the 

* “ Odyssey,’*  xii.  342.  « " Iliad.”  xiv.  281.  » ” Odyssey,”  viii.  266. 

♦ ” Odyssey,”  xx.  17.  ® Quoted  by  Suidas  as  attributed  to  Hesiod.  • Iliad,”  ix.  515. 


THE  REPUBLIC 


73 

dead  body  of  Hector,  but  that  without  payment  he  was  unwill- 
ing to  do  so.^ 

Undoubtedly,  he  said,  these  are  not  sentiments  which  can  be 
approved. 

Loving  Homer  as  I do,^  I hardly  like  to  say  that  in  attribut- 
ing these  feelings  to  Achilles,  or  in  believing  that  they  are  truly 
attributed  to  him,  he  is  guilty  of  downright  impiety.  As  little 
can  I believe  the  narrative  of  his  insolence  to  Apollo,  where  he 
says. 

Thou  hast  wronged  me,  O Far-darter,  most  abominable  of  deities. 
Verily  I would  be  even  with  thee,  if  I had  only  the  power;  ” ^ 

or  his  insubordination  to  the  river-god,^  on  whose  divinity  he 
is  ready  to  lay  hands ; or  his  offerings  to  the  dead  Patroclus  of 
his  own  hair,®  which  had  been  previously  dedicated  to  the  other 
river-god  Spercheius,  and  that  he  actually  performed  this  vow ; 
or  that  he  dragged  Hector  round  the  tomb  of  Patroclus,®  and 
slaughtered  the  captives  at  the  pyre ; ^ of  all  this  I cannot  be- 
lieve that  he  was  guilty,  any  more  than  I can  allow  our  citizens 
to  believe  that  he,  the  wise  Cheiron’s  pupil,  the  son  of  a goddess 
and  of  Peleus  who  was  the  gentlest  of  men  and  third  in  descent 
from  Zeus,  was  so  disordered  in  his  wits  as  to  be  at  one  time 
the  slave  of  two  seemingly  inconsistent  passions,  meanness,  not 
untainted  by  avarice,  combined  with  overweening  contempt  of 
gods  and  men. 

You  are  quite  right,  he  replied. 

And  let  us  equally  refuse  to  believe,  or  allow  to  be  repeated, 
the  tale  of  Theseus,  son  of  Poseidon,  or  of  Peirithous,  son  of 
Zeus,  going  forth  as  they  did  to  perpetrate  a horrid  rape;  or 
of  any  other  hero  or  son  of  a god  daring  to  do  such  impious 
and  dreadful  things  as  they  falsely  ascribe  to  them  in  our  day : 
and  let  us  further  compel  the  poets  to  declare  either  that  these 
acts  were  done  by  them,  or  that  they  were  not  the  sons  of  God ; 
both  in  the  same  breath  they  shall  not  be  permitted  to  affirm. 
We  will  not  have  them  trying  to  persuade  our  youth  that  the 
gods  are  the  authors  of  evil,  and  that  heroes  are  no  better  than 
men — sentiments  which,  as  we  were  saying,  are  neither  pious 

> “ Iliad,”  xxiv.  175.  * Cf.  infra,  x.  595.  • “ Iliad,”  xxii.  15  et  seq. 

• **  Iliad,”  xxi.  130, 223  et  seq.  ® “ Iliad,”  xxiii.  151.  • “ Iliad,”  xxii.  394. 

» ” Iliad,”  xxiii.  175. 


74 


PLATO 


nor  true,  for  we  have  already  proved  that  evil  cannot  come  from 
the  gods. 

Assuredly  not. 

And,  further,  they  are  likely  to  have  a bad  effect  on  those 
who  hear  them ; for  everybody  will  begin  to  excuse  his  own 
vices  when  he  is  convinced  that  similar  wickednesses  are  always 
being  perpetrated  by 

The  kindred  of  the  gods,  the  relatives  of  Zeus,  whose  ancestral 
altar,  the  altar  of  Zeus,  is  aloft  in  air  on  the  peak  of  Ida,” 

and  who  have 

‘‘  the  blood  of  deities  yet  flowing  in  their  veins.”  ^ 

And  therefore  let  us  put  an  end  to  such  tales,  lest  they  engender 
laxity  of  morals  among  the  young. 

By  all  means,  he  replied. 

But  now  that  we  are  determining  what  classes  of  subjects 
are  or  are  not  to  be  spoken  of,  let  us  see  whether  any  have  been 
omitted  by  us.  The  manner  in  which  gods  and  demigods  and 
heroes  and  the  world  below  should  be  treated  has  been  already 
laid  down. 

Very  true. 

And  what  shall  we  say  about  men?  That  is  clearly  the  re- 
maining portion  of  our  subject. 

Clearly  so. 

But  we  are  not  in  a condition  to  answer  this  question  at  pres- 
ent, my  friend. 

Why  not  ? 

Because,  if  I am  not  mistaken,  we  shall  have  to  say  that  about 
men ; poets  and  story-tellers  are  guilty  of  making  the  gravest 
misstatements  when  they  tell  us  that  wicked  men  are  often 
happy,  and  the  good  miserable;  and  that  injustice  is  profitable 
when  undetected,  but  that  justice  is  a man’s  own  loss  and  an- 
other’s gain — these  things  we  shall  forbid  them  to  utter,  and 
command  them  to  sing  and  say  the  opposite. 

To  be  sure  we  shall,  he  replied. 

But  if  you  admit  that  I am  right  in  this,  then  I shall  main- 
tain that  you  have  implied  the  principle  for  which  we  have 
been  all  along  contending. 

» From  tbe  “ Niwbe”  of  ^scbylus# 


THE  REPUBLIC 


75 


I grant  the  truth  of  your  inference. 

That  such  things  are  or  are  not  to  be  said  about  men  is  a ques- 
tion which  we  cannot  determine  until  we  have  discovered  what 
justice  is,  and  how  naturally  advantageous  to  the  possessor, 
whether  he  seem  to  be  just  or  not. 

Most  true,  he  said. 

Enough  of  the  subjects  of  poetry:  let  us  now  speak  of  the 
style ; and  when  this  has  been  considered,  both  matter  and  man- 
ner will  have  been  completely  treated. 

I do  not  understand  what  you  mean,  said  Adeimantus. 

Then  I must  make  you  understand;  and  perhaps  I may  be 
more  intelligible  if  I put  the  matter  in  this  way.  You  are 
aware,  I suppose,  that  all  mythology  and  poetry  are  a narration 
of  events,  either  past,  present,  or  to  come? 

Certainly,  he  replied. 

And  narration  may  be  either  simple  narration  or  imitation, 
or  a union  of  the  two? 

That,  again,  he  said,  I do  not  quite  understand. 

I fear  that  I must  be  a ridiculous  teacher  when  I have  so 
much  difficulty  in  making  myself  apprehended.  Like  a bad 
speaker,  therefore,  I will  not  take  the  whole  of  the  subject,  but 
will  break  a piece  off  in  illustration  of  my  meaning.  You  know 
the  first  lines  of  the  ‘‘  Iliad,''  in  which  the  poet  says  that  Chryses 
prayed  Agamemnon  to  release  his  daughter,  and  that  Agamem- 
non flew  into  a passion  with  him ; whereupon  Chryses,  failing 
of  his  object,  invoked  the  anger  of  the  god  against  the  Achaeans. 
Now  as  far  as  these  lines, 

‘‘  And  he  prayed  all  the  Greeks,  but  especially  the  two  sons  of  Atreus, 
the  chiefs  of  the  people," 

the  poet  is  speaking  in  his  own  person ; he  never  leads  us  to 
suppose  that  he  is  anyone  else.  But  in  what  follows  he  takes 
the  person  of  Chryses,  and  then  he  does  all  that  he  can  to  make 
us  believe  that  the  speaker  is  not  Homer,  but  the  aged  priest 
himself.  And  in  this  double  form  he  has  cast  the  entire  narra- 
tive of  the  events  which  occurred  at  Troy  and  in  Ithaca  and 
throughout  the  Odyssey." 

Yes. 

And  a narrative  it  remains  both  in  the  speeches  which  the 
poet  recites  from  time  to  time  and  in  the  intermediate  passages  ? 


PLATO 


Quite  true. 

But  when  the  poet  speaks  in  the  person  of  another,  may  we 
not  say  that  he  assimilates  his  style  to  that  of  the  person  who, 
as  he  informs  you,  is  going  to  speak  ? 

Certainly. 

And  this  assimilation  of  himself  to  another,  either  by  the  use 
of  voice  or  gesture,  is  the  imitation  of  the  person  whose  char- 
acter he  assumes? 

Of  course. 

Then  in  this  case  the  narrative  of  the  poet  may  be  said  to 
proceed  by  way  of  imitation? 

Very  true. 

Or,  if  the  poet  everywhere  appears  and  never  conceals  him- 
self, then  again  the  imitation  is  dropped,  and  his  poetry  becomes 
simple  narration.  However,  in  order  that  I may  make  my 
meaning  quite  clear,  and  that  you  may  no  more  say,  I don't 
understand,"  I will  show  how  the  change  might  be  effected. 
If  Homer  had  said,  The  priest  came,  having  his  daughter's 
ransom  in  his  hands,  supplicating  the  Achoeans,  and  above  all 
the  kings ; " and  then  if,  instead  of  speaking  in  the  person  of 
Chryses,  he  had  continued  in  his  own  person,  the  words  would 
have  been,  not  imitation,  but  simple  narration.  The  passage 
would  have  run  as  follows  (I  am  no  poet,  and  therefore  I drop 
the  metre)  : ‘‘  The  priest  came  and  prayed  the  gods  on  behalf 
of  the  Greeks  that  they  might  capture  Troy  and  return  safely 
home,  but  begged  that  they  would  give  him  back  his  daughter, 
and  take  the  ransom  which  he  brought,  and  respect  the  god. 
Thus  he  spoke,  and  the  other  Greeks  revered  the  priest  and  as- 
sented. But  Agamemnon  was  wroth,  and  bade  him  depart  and 
not  come  again,  lest  the  staff  and  chaplets  of  the  god  should 
be  of  no  avail  to  him — the  daughter  of  Chryses  should  not  be 
released,  he  said — she  should  grow  old  with  him  in  Argos. 
And  then  he  told  him  to  go  away  and  not  to  provoke  him,  if  he 
intended  to  get  horne  unscathed.  And  the  old  man  went  away 
in  fear  and  silence,  and,  when  he  had  left  the  camp,  he  called 
upon  Apollo  by  his  many  names,  reminding  him  of  everything 
which  he  had  done  pleasing  to  him,  whether  in  building  his 
temples,  or  in  offering  sacrifice,  and  praying  that  his  good  deeds 
might  be  returned  to  him,  and  that  the  Achseans  might  expiate 
his  tears  by  the  arrows  of  the  god  " — and  so  on.  In  this  way 
the  whole  becomes  simple  narrative. 


THE  REPUBLIC 


77 


I understand,  he  said. 

Or  you  may  suppose  the  opposite  case — that  the  intermediate 
passages  are  omitted,  and  the  dialogue  only  left. 

That  also,  he  said,  I understand ; you  mean,  for  example,  as 
in  tragedy. 

You  have  conceived  my  meaning  perfectly;  and  if  I mistake 
not,  what  you  failed  to  apprehend  before  is  now  made  clear  to 
you,  that  poetry  and  mythology  are,  in  some  cases,  wholly  imi- 
tative— instances  of  this  are  supplied  by  tragedy  and  comedy; 
there  is  likewise  the  opposite  style,  in  which  the  poet  is  the  only 
speaker — of  this  the  dithyramb  affords  the  best  example;  and 
the  combination  of  both  is  found  in  epic  and  in  several  other 
styles  of  poetry.  Do  I take  you  with  me? 

Yes,  he  said ; I see  now  what  you  meant. 

I will  ask  you  to  remember  also  what  I began  by  saying, 
that  we  had  done  with  the  subject  and  might  proceed  to  the 
style. 

Yes,  I remember. 

In  saying  this,  I intended  to  imply  that  we  must  come  to  an 
understanding  about  the  mimetic  art — whether  the  poets,  in 
narrating  their  stories,  are  to  be  allowed  by  us  to  imitate,  and  if 
so,  whether  in  whole  or  in  part,  and  if  the  latter,  in  what  parts ; 
or  should  all  imitation  be  prohibited  ? 

You  mean,  I suspect,  to  ask  whether  tragedy  and  comedy 
shall  be  admitted  into  our  State? 

Yes,  I said;  but  there  may  be  more  than  this  in  question:  I 
really  do  not  know  as  yet,  but  whither  the  argument  may  blow, 
thither  we  go. 

And  go  we  will,  he  said. 

Then,  Adeimantus,  let  me  ask  you  whether  our  guardians 
ought  to  be  imitators ; or  rather,  has  not  this  question  been  de- 
cided by  the  rule  already  laid  down  that  one  man  can  only  do 
one  thing  well,  and  not  many ; and  that  if  he  attempt  many,  he 
will  altogether  fail  of  gaining  much  reputation  in  any? 

Certainly. 

And  this  is  equally  true  of  imitation ; no  one  man  can  imitate 
many  things  as  well  as  he  would  imitate  a single  one  ? 

He  cannot. 

Then  the  same  person  will  hardly  be  able  to  play  a serious 
part  in  life,  and  at  the  same  time  to  be  an  imitator  and  imitate 


PLATO 


78 

many  other  parts  as  well ; for  even  when  two  species  of  imita- 
tion are  nearly  allied,  the  same  persons  cannot  succeed  in  both, 
as,  for  example,  the  writers  of  tragedy  and  comedy — did  you 
not  just  now  call  them  imitations? 

Yes,  I did;  and  you  are  right  in  thinking  that  the  same  per- 
sons cannot  succeed  in  both. 

Any  more  than  they  can  be  rhapsodists  and  actors  at  once? 

True. 

Neither  are  comic  and  tragic  actors  the  same ; yet  all  these 
things  are  but  imitations. 

They  are  so. 

And  human  nature,  Adeimantus,  appears  to  have  been  coined 
into  yet  smaller  pieces,  and  to  be  as  incapable  of  imitating  many 
things  well,  as  of  performing  well  the  actions  of  which  the  imi- 
tations are  copies. 

Quite  true,  he  replied. 

If  then  we  adhere  to  our  original  notion  and  bear  in  mind 
that  our  guardians,  setting  aside  every  other  business,  are  to 
dedicate  themselves  wholly  to  the  maintenance  of  freedom  in 
the  State,  making  this  their  craft,  and  engaging  in  no  work 
which  does  not  bear  on  this  end,  they  ought  not  to  practise  or 
imitate  anything  else ; if  they  imitate  at  all,  they  should  imitate 
from  youth  upward  only  those  characters  which  are  suitable 
to  their  profession — the  courageous,  temperate,  holy,  free,  and 
the  like;  but  they  should  not  depict  or  be  skilful  at  imitating 
any  kind  of  illiberality  or  baseness,  lest  from  imitation  they 
should  come  to  be  what  they  imitate.  Did  you  never  observe 
how  imitations,  beginning  in  early  youth  and  continuing  far 
into  life,  at  length  grow  into  habits  and  become  a second  nature, 
affecting  body,  voice,  and  mind  ? 

Yes,  certainly,  he  said. 

Then,  I said,  we  will  not  allow  those  for  whom  we  profess 
a care  and  of  whom  we  say  that  they  ought  to  be  good  men, 
to  imitate  a woman,  whether  young  or  old,  quarrelling  with 
her  husband,  or  striving  and  vaunting  against  the  gods  in  con- 
ceit of  her  happiness,  or  when  she  is  in  affliction,  or  sorrow,  or 
weeping;  and  certainly  not  one  who  is  in  sickness,  love,  or 
labor. 

Very  right,  he  said. 

Neither  must  they  represent  slaves,  male  or  female,  per- 
forming the  offices  of  slaves? 


THE  REPUBLIC 


79 


They  must  not. 

And  surely  not  bad  men,  whether  cowards  or  any  others, 
who  do  the  reverse  of  what  we  have  just  been  prescribing,  who 
scold  or  mock  or  revile  one  another  in  drink  or  out  of  drink, 
or  who  in  any  other  manner  sin  against  themselves  and  their 
neighbors  in  word  or  deed,  as  the  manner  of  such  is.  Neither 
should  they  be  trained  to  imitate  the  action  or  speech  of  men 
or  women  who  are  mad  or  bad ; for  madness,  like  vice,  is  to  be 
known  but  not  to  be  practised  or  imitated. 

Very  true,  he  replied. 

Neither  may  they  imitate  smiths  or  other  artificers,  or  oars- 
men, or  boatswains,  or  the  like? 

How  can  they^  he  said,  when  they  are  not  allowed  to  apply 
their  minds  to  the  callings  of  any  of  these  ? 

Nor  may  they  imitate  the  neighing  of  horses,  the  bellowing 
of  bulls,  the  murmur  of  rivers  and  roll  of  the  ocean,  thunder, 
and  all  that  sort  of  thing? 

Nay,  he  said,  if  madness  be  forbidden,  neither  may  they  copy 
the  behavior  of  madmen. 

You  mean,  I said,  if  I understand  you  aright,  that  there  is 
one  sort  of  narrative  style  which  may  be  employed  by  a truly 
good  man  when  he  has  anything  to  say,  and  that  another  sort 
will  be  used  by  a man  of  an  opposite  character  and  education. 

And  which  are  these  two  sorts  ? he  asked. 

Suppose,  I answered,  that  a just  and  good  man  in  the  course 
of  a narration  comes  on  some  saying  or  action  of  another  good 
man — I should  imagine  that  he  will  like  to  personate  him,  and 
will  not  be  ashamed  of  this  sort  of  imitation:  he  will  be  most 
ready  to  play  the  part  of  the  good  man  when  he  is  acting  firmly 
and  wisely ; in  a less  degree  when  he  is  overtaken  by  illness  or 
love  or  drink,  or  has  met  with  any  other  disaster.  But  when 
he  comes  to  a character  which  is  unworthy  of  him,  he  will  not 
make  a study  of  that ; he  will  disdain  such  a person,  and  will 
assume  his  likeness,  if  at  all,  for  a moment  only  when  he  is  per- 
forming some  good  action ; at  other  times  he  will  be  ashamed 
to  play  a part  which  he  has  never  practised,  nor  will  he  like  to 
fashion  and  frame  himself  after  the  baser  models ; he  feels  the 
employment  of  such  an  art,  unless  in  j^t,  to  be  beneath  him, 
and  his  mind  revolts  at  it. 

So  I should  expect,  he  replied. 

Classics.  Vol.  31 — 8 


8o 


PLATO 


Then  he  will  adopt  a mode  of  narration  such  as  we  have 
illustrated  out  of  Homer,  that  is  to  say,  his  style  will  be  both 
imitative  and  narrative;  but  there  will  be  very  little  of  the 
former,  and  a great  deal  of  the  latter.  Do  you  agree  ? 

Certainly,  he  said;  that  is  the  model  which  such  a speaker 
must  necessarily  take. 

But  there  is  another  sort  of  character  who  will  narrate  any- 
thing, and,  the  worse  he  is,  the  more  unscrupulous  he  will  be ; 
nothing  will  be  too  bad  for  him : and  he  will  be  ready  to  imi- 
tate anything,  not  as  a joke,  but  in  right  good  earnest,  and  be- 
fore a large  company.  As  I was  just  now  saying,  he  will 
attempt  to  represent  the  roll  of  thunder,  the  noise  of  wind  and 
hail,  or  the  creaking  of  wheels,  and  pulleys,  and  the  various 
sounds  of  flutes,  pipes,  trumpets,  and  all  sorts  of  instruments : 
he  will  bark  like  a dog,  bleat  like  a sheep,  or  crow  like  a cock ; 
his  entire  art  will  consist  in  imitation  of  voice  and  gesture,  and 
there  will  be  very  little  narration. 

That,  he  said,  will  be  his  mode  of  speaking. 

These,  then,  are  the  two  kinds  of  style? 

Yes. 

And  you  would  agree  with  me  in  saying  that  one  of  them 
is  simple  and  has  but  slight  changes ; and  if  the  harmony  and 
rhythm  are  also  chosen  for  their  simplicity,  the  result  is  that 
the  speaker,  if  he  speaks  correctly,  is  always  pretty  niucli  the 
same  in  style,  and  he  will  keep  within  the  limits  of  a single 
harmony  (for  the  changes  are  not  great),  and  in  like  manner 
he  will  make  use  of  nearly  the  same  rhythm? 

That  is  quite  true,  he  said. 

Whereas  the  other  requires  all  sorts  of  harmonies  and  all 
sorts  of  rhythms,  if  the  music  and  the  style  are  to  correspond, 
because  the  style  has  all  sorts  of  changes. 

That  is  also  perfectly  true,  he  replied. 

And  do  not  the  two  styles,  or  the  mixture  of  the  two,  com- 
prehend all  poetry,  and  every  form  of  expression  in  words? 
No  one  can  say  anything  except  in  one  or  other  of  them  or  in 
both  together. 

They  include  all,  he  said. 

And  shall  we  receive  into  our  State  all  the  three  styles,  or 
one  only  of  the  two  unmixed  styles  ? or  would  you  include  the 
mixed  ? 

I should  prefer  only  to  admit  the  pure  imitator  of  virtue. 


THE  REPUBLIC 


8i 


Yes,  I said,  Adeimantus;  but  the  mixed  style  is  also  very 
charming:  and  indeed  the  pantomimic,  which  is  the  opposite 
of  the  one  chosen  by  you,  is  the  most  popular  style  with  children 
and  their  attendants,  and  with  the  world  in  general. 

I do  not  deny  it. 

But  I suppose  you  would  argue  that  such  a style  is  unsuit- 
able to  our  State,  in  which  human  nature  is  not  twofold  or  man- 
ifold, for  one  man  plays  one  part  only  ? 

Yes;  quite  unsuitable. 

And  this  is  the  reason  why  in  our  State,  and  in  our  State 
only,  we  shall  find  a shoemaker  to  be  a shoemaker  and  not  a 
pilot  also,  and  a husbandman  to  be  a husbandman  and  not  a 
dicast  also,  and  a soldier  a soldier  and  not  a trader  also,  and 
the  same  throughout? 

True,  he  said. 

And  therefore  when  any  one  of  these  pantomimic  gentlemen, 
who  are  so  clever  that  they  can  imitate  anything,  comes  to  us, 
and  makes  a proposal  to  exhibit  himself  and  his  poetry,  we  will 
fall  down  and  worship  him  as  a sweet  and  holy  and  wonderful 
being;  but  we  must  also  inform  him  that  in  our  State  such  as 
he  are  not  permitted  to  exist;  the  law  will  not  allow  them. 
And  so  when  we  have  anointed  him  with  myrrh,  and  set  a gar- 
land of  wool  upon  his  head,  we  shall  send  him  away  to  another 
city.  For  we  mean  to  employ  for  our  souls’  health  the  rougher 
and  severer  poet  or  story-teller,  who  will  imitate  the  style  of 
the  virtuous  only,  and  will  follow  those  models  which  we  pre- 
scribed at  first  when  we  began  the  education  of  our  soldiers. 

We  certainly  will,  he  said,  if  we  have  the  power. 

Then  now,  my  friend,  I said,  that  part  of  music  or  literary 
education  which  relates  to  the  story  or  myth  may  be  considered 
to  be  finished ; for  the  matter  and  manner  have  both  been  dis- 
cussed. 

I think  so  too,  he  said. 

Next  in  order  will  follow  melody  and  song. 

That  is  obvious. 

Everyone  can  see  already  what  we  ought  to  say  about  them, 
if  we  are  to  be  consistent  with  ourselves. 

I fear,  said  Glaucon,  laughing,  tiiat  the  word  everyone 
hardly  includes  me,  for  I cannot  at  the  moment  say  what  they 
should  be ; though  I may  guess. 


82 


PLATO 


At  any  rate  you  can  tell  that  a song  or  ode  has  three  parts— 
the  words,  the  melody,  and  the  rhythm ; that  degree  of  knowl- 
edge I may  presuppose? 

Yes,  he  said;  so  much  as  that  you  may. 

And  as  for  the  words,  there  will  surely  be  no  difference  be- 
tween words  which  are  and  which  are  not  set  to  music;  both 
will  conform  to  the  same  laws,  and  these  have  been  already 
determined  by  us  ? 

Yes. 

And  the  melody  and  rhythm  will  depend  upon  the  words? 

Certainly. 

We  were  saying,  when  we  spoke  of  the  subject-matter,  that 
we  had  no  need  of  lamentation  and  strains  of  sorrow  ? 

True. 

And  which  are  the  harmonies  expressive  of  sorrow?  You 
are  musical,  and  can  tell  me. 

The  harmonies  which  you  mean  are  the  mixed  or  tenor 
Lydian,  and  the  full-toned  or  bass  Lydian,  and  such  like. 

These  then,  I said,  must  be  banished ; they  are  of  no  use,  even 
to  women  who  have  a character  to  maintain,  and  much  less 
to  men. 

Certainly. 

In  the  next  place,  drunkenness  and  softness  and  indolence 
are  utterly  unbecoming  the  character  of  our  guardians. 

Utterly  unbecoming. 

And  which  are  the  soft  or  drinking  harmonies  ? 

The  Ionian,  he  replied,  and  the  Lydian;  they  are  termed 
‘‘  relaxed.’’ 

Well,  and  are  these  of  any  military  use? 

Quite  the  reverse,  he  replied ; and  if  so,  the  Dorian  and  the 
Phrygian  are  the  only  ones  which  you  have  left. 

I answered : Of  the  harmonies  I know  nothing,  but  I want 
to  have  one  warlike,  to  sound  the  note  or  accent  which  a brave 
man  utters  in  the  hour  of  danger  and  stem  resolve,  or  when 
his  cause  is  failing,  and  he  is  going  to  wounds  or  death  or  is 
overtaken  by  some  other  evil,  and  at  every  such  crisis  meets 
the  blows  of  fortune  with  firm  step  and  a determination  to  en- 
dure ; and  another  to  be  used  by  him  in  times  of  peace  and  free- 
dom of  action,  when  there  is  no  pressure  of  necessity,  and  he  is 
seeking  to  persuade  God  by  prayer,  or  man  by  instruction  and 


THE  REPUBLIC 


83 


admonition,  or  on  the  other  hand,  when  he  is  expressing  his 
willingness  to  yield  to  persuasion  or  entreaty  or  admonition, 
and  which  represents  him  when  by  prudent  conduct  he  has  at- 
tained his  end,  not  carried  away  by  his  success,  but  acting  mod- 
erately and  wisely  under  the  circumstances,  and  acquiescing 
in  the  event.  These  two  harmonies  I ask  you  to  leave;  the 
strain  of  necessity  and  the  strain  of_freedom,  the  strain  of  the 
unfortunate  and  the  strain  of  "the  fortunate,  the  strain  of  cour- 
age, and  the  strain  of  temperance;  these,  I say,  leave. 

And  these,  he  replied,  are  the  Dorian  and  Phrygian  har- 
monies of  which  I was  just  now  speaking. 

Then,  I said,  if  these  and  these  only  are  to  be  used  in  our 
songs  and  melodies,  we  shall  not  want  multiplicity  of  notes 
or  a panharmonic  scale  ? 

I suppose  not. 

Then  we  shall  not  maintain  the  artificers  of  lyres  with  three 
corners  and  complex  scales,  or  the  makers  of  any  other  many- 
stringed, curiously  harmonized  instruments? 

Certainly  not. 

But  what  do  you  say  to  flute-makers  and  flute-players? 
Would  you  admit  them  into  our  State  when  you  reflect  that 
in  this  composite  use  of  harmony  the  flute  is  worse  than  all  the 
stringed  instruments  put  together;  even  the  panharmonic 
music  is  only  an  imitation  of  the  flute? 

Clearly  not. 

There  remain  then  only  the  lyre  and  the  harp  Sr  use  in  the 
city,  and  the  shepherds  may  have  a pipe  in  the  country. 

That  is  surely  the  conclusion  to  be  drawn  from  the  argument. 

The  preferring  of  Apollo  and  his  instruments  to  Marsyas 
and  his  instruments  is  not  at  el'll  strange,  I said. 

Not  at  all,  he  replied. 

And  so,  by  the  dog  of  Egypt,  we  have  been  unconsciously 
purging  the  State,  which  not  long  ago  we  termed  luxurious. 

And  we  have  done  wisely,  he  replied. 

Then  let  us  now  finish  the  purgation,  I said.  Next  in  order 
to  harmonies,  rhythms  will  naturally  follow,  and  they  should 
be  subject  to  the  same  rules,  for  we  ought  not  to  seek  out  com- 
plex systems  of  metre,  or  metres  of  every  kind,  but  rather  to 
discover  what  rhythms  are  the  expressions  of  a courageous  and 
harmonious  life ; and  when  we  have  found  them,  we  shall  adapt 


84 


PLATO 


the  foot  and  the  melody  to  words  having  a like  spirit,  not  the 
words  to  the  foot  and  melody.  To  say  what  these  rhythms 
are  will  be  your  duty — you  must  teach  me  them,  as  you  have 
already  taught  me  the  harmonies. 

But,  indeed,  he  replied,  I cannot  tell  you.  I only  know  that 
there  are  some  three  principles  of  rhythm  out  of  which  metrical 
systems  are  framed,  just  as  in  sounds  there  are  four  notes  ^ 
out  of  which  all  the  harmonies  are  composed ; that  is  an  obser- 
vation which  I have  made.  But  of  what  sort  of  lives  they  are 
severally  the  imitations  I am  unable  to  say. 

Then,  I said,  we  must  take  Damon  into  our  counsels;  and 
he  will  tell  us  what  rhythms  are  expressive  of  meanness,  or 
insolence,  or  fury,  or  other  unworthiness,  and  what  are  to  be  re- 
served for  the  expression  of  opposite  feelings.  And  I think  that 
I have  an  indistinct  recollection  of  his  mentioning  a complex 
Cretic  rhythm ; also  a dactylic  or  heroic,  and  he  arranged  them 
in  some  manner  which  I do  not  quite  understand,  making  the 
rhythms  equal  in  the  rise  and  fall  of  the  foot,  long  and  short  al- 
ternating ; and,  unless  I am  mistaken,  he  spoke  of  an  iambic  as 
well  as  of  a trochaic  rhythm,  and  assigned  to  them  short  and 
long  quantities.^  Also  in  some  cases  he  appeared  to  praise  or 
censure  the  movement  of  the  foot  quite  as  much  as  the  rhythm ; 
or  perhaps  a combination  of  the  two ; for  I am  not  certain  what 
he  meant.  These  matters,  however,  as  I was  saying,  had  better 
be  referred  to  Damon  himself,  for  the  analysis  of  the  subject 
would  be  difficult,  you  know? 

Rather  so,  I should  say. 

But  there  is  no  difficulty  in  seeing  that  grace  or  the  absence 
of  grace  is  an  effect  of  good  or  bad  rhythm. 

None  at  all. 

And  also  that  good  and  bad  rhythm  naturally  assimilate  to 
a good  and  bad  style;  and  that  harmony  and  discord  in  like 
manner  follow  style ; for  our  principle  is  that  rhythm  and  har- 
mony are  regulated  by  the  words,  and  not  the  words  by  them. 

Just  so,  he  said,  they  should  follow  the  words. 

And  will  not  the  words  and  the  character  of  the  style  depend 
on  the  temper  of  the  soul  ? 

* The  four  notes  of  the  tetrachord. 

> Socrates  expresses  himself  carelessly  in  accordance  with  his  assumed  ignorance  of  the 
details  of  the  subject.  In  the  first  part  of  the  sentence  he  appears  to  be  speaking-  of 
pseonic  rhythms  which  are  in  the  ratio  of  3 to  2 ; in  the  second  part,  of  dactylic  and  ana- 
paestic rhythms,  which  are  in  the  ratio  of  i to  i ; in  the  last  clause*  of  iambic  and  trochaic 
rhythms,  which  are  in  the  ratio  of  i to  2 or  a to  i. 


THE  REPUBLIC 


85 


Yes. 

And  everything  else  on  the  style  ? 

Yes. 

Then  beauty  of  style  and  harmony  and  grace  and  good 
rhythm  depend  on  simplicity — I mean  the  true  simplicity  of  a 
rightly  and  nobly  ordered  mind  and  character,  not  that  other 
simplicity  which  is  only  an  euphemism  for  folly  ? 

Very  true,  he  replied. 

And  if  our  youth  are  to  do  their  work  in  life,  must  they  not 
make  these  graces  and  harmonies  their  perpetual  aim? 

They  must. 

And  surely  the  art  of  the  painter  and  every  other  creative 
and  constructive  art  are  full  of  them — weaving,  embroidery, 
architecture,  and  every  kind  of  manufacture;  also  nature, 
animal  and  vegetable — in  all  of  them  there  is  grace  or  the  ab- 
sence of  grace.  And  ugliness  and  discord  and  inharmonious 
motion  are  nearly  allied  to  ill-words  and  ill-nature,  as  grace 
and  harmony  are  the  twin  sisters  of  goodness  and  virtue  and 
bear  their  likeness. 

That  is  quite  true,  he  said. 

But  shall  our  superintendence  go  no  further,  and  are  the 
poets  only  to  be  required  by  us  to  express  the  image  of  the  good 
in  their  works,  on  pain,  if  they  do  anything  else,  of  expulsion 
from  our  State  ? Or  is  the  same  control  to  be  extended  to  other 
artists,  and  are  they  also  to  be  prohibited  from  exhibiting  the 
opposite  forms  of  vice  and  intemperance  and  meanness  and 
indecency  in  sculpture  and  building  and  the  other  creative  arts ; 
and  is  he  who  cannot  conform  to  this  rule  of  ours  to  be  pre- 
vented from  practising  his  art  in  our  State,  lest  the  taste  of  our 
citizens  be  corrupted  by  him?  We  would  not  have  our  guard- 
ians grow  up  amid  images  of  moral  deformity,  as  in  some 
noxious  pasture,  and  there  browse  and  feed  upon  many  a bane- 
ful herb  and  flower  day  by  day,  little  by  little,  until  they  silently 
gather  a festering  mass  of  corruption  in  their  own  soul.  Let 
our  artists  rather  be  those  who  are  gifted  to  discern  the  true 
nature  of  the  beautiful  and  graceful ; then  will  our  youth  dwell 
in  a land  of  health,  amid  fair  sights  and  sounds,  and  receive  the 
good  in  everything;  and  beauty,  the  effluence  of  fair  works, 
shall  flow  into  the  eye  and  ear,  like  a health-giving  breeze  from 
a purer  region,  and  insensibly  draw  the  soul  from  earliest  years 
into  likeness  and  sympathy  with  the  beauty  of  reason. 


86 


PLATO 


There  can  be  no  nobler  training  than  that,  he  replied. 

And  therefore,  I said,  Glaucon,  musical  training  is  a more 
potent  instrument  than  any  other,  because  rhythm  and  harmony 
find  their  way  into  the  inward  places  of  the  soul,  on  which  they 
mightily  fasten,  imparting  grace,  and  making  the  soul  of  him 
who  is  rightly  educated  graceful,  or  of  him  who  is  ill-educated 
ungraceful ; and  also  because  he  who  has  received  this  true  edu- 
cation of  the  inner  being  will  most  shrewdly  perceive  omissions 
or  faults  in  art  and  nature,  and  with  a true  taste,  while  he 
praises  and  rejoices  over  and  receives  into  his  soul  the  good, 
and  becomes  noble  and  good,  he  will  justly  blame  and  hate  the 
bad,  now  in  the  days  of  his  youth,  even  before  he  is  able  to 
know  the  reason  why ; and  when  reason  comes  he  will  recognize 
and  salute  the  friend  with  whom  his  education  has  made  him 
long  familiar. 

Yes,  he  said,  I quite  agree  with  you  in  thinking  that  our 
youth  should  be  trained  in  music  and  on  the  grounds  which 
you  mention. 

Just  as  in  learning  to  read,  I said,  we  were  satisfied  when 
we  knew  the  letters  of  the  alphabet,  which  are  very  few,  in  all 
their  recurring  sizes  and  combinations ; not  slighting  them  as 
unimportant  whether  they  occupy  a space  large  or  small,  but 
everywhere  eager  to  make  them  out ; and  not  thinking  ourselves 
perfect  in  the  art  of  reading  until  we  recognize  them  wherever 
they  are  found : ^ 

True — 

Or,  as  we  recognize  the  reflection  of  letters  in  the  water,  or 
in  a mirror,  only  when  we  know  the  letters  themselves;  the 
same  art  and  study  giving  us  the  knowledge  of  both : 

Exactly — 

Even  so,  as  I maintain,  neither  we  nor  our  guardians,  whom 
we  have  to  educate,  can  ever  become  musical  until  we  and  they 
know  the  essential  forms  of  temperance,  courage,  liberality, 
magnificence,  and  their  kindred,  as  well  as  the  contrary  forms, 
in  all  their  combinations,  and  can  recognize  them  and  their 
images  wherever  they  are  found,  not  slighting  them  either  in 
small  things  or  great,  but  believing  them  all  to  be  within  the 
sphere  of  one  art  and  study. 

Most  assuredly. 


» Cf.  supra,  II.  368. 


THE  REPUBLIC 


87 


And  when  a beautiful  soul  harmonizes  with  a beautiful  form, 
and  the  two  are  cast  in  one  mould,  that  will  be  the  fairest  of 
sights  to  him  who  has  an  eye  to  see  it  ? 

The  fairest  indeed. 

And  the  fairest  is  also  the  loveliest? 

That  may  be  assumed. 

And  the  man  who  has  the  spirit  of  harmony  will  be  most  in 
love  with  the  loveliest;  but  he  will  not  love  him  who  is  of  an 
inharmonious  soul? 

That  is  true,  he  replied^  if  the  deficiency  be  in  his  soul ; but 
if  there  be  any  merely  bodily  defect  in  another  he  will  be  patient 
of  it,  and  will  love  all  the  same. 

I perceive,  I said,  that  you  have  or  have  had  experiences  of 
this  sort,  and  I agree.  But  let  me  ask  you  another  question: 
Has  excess  of  pleasure  any  affinity  to  temperance  ? 

How  can  that  be  ? he  replied ; pleasure  deprives  a man  of  the 
use  of  his  faculties  quite  as  much  as  pain. 

Or  any  affinity  to  virtue  in  general  ? 

None  whatever. 

Any  affinity  to  wantonness  and  intemperance  ? 

Yes,  the  greatest. 

And  is  there  any  greater  or  keener  pleasure  than  that  of 
sensual  love? 

No,  nor  a madder. 

Whereas  true  love  is  a love  of  beauty  and  order — temperate 
and  harmonious? 

Quite  true,  he  said. 

Then  no  intemperance  or  madness  should  be  allowed  to  ap- 
proach true  love  ? 

Certainly  not. 

Then  mad  «or  intemperate  pleasure  must  never  be  allowed 
to  come  near  the  lover  and  his  beloved;  neither  of  them  can 
have  any  part  in  it  if  their  love  is  of  the  right  sort? 

No,  indeed,  Socrates,  it  must  never  come  near  them. 

Then  I suppose  that  in  the  city  which  we  are  founding  you 
would  make  a law  to  the  effect  that  a friend  should  use  no  other 
familiarity  to  his  love  than  a father  would  use  to  his  son,  and 
then  only  for  a noble  purpose,  and  he  must  first  have  the  other’s 
consent ; and  this  rule  is  to  limit  him  in  all  his  intercourse,  and 
he  is  never  to  be  seen  going  further,  or,  if  he  exceeds,  he  is  to 
be  deemed  guilty  of  coarseness  and  bad  taste. 


88 


PLATO 


I quite  agree,  he  said. 

Thus  much  of  music,  which  makes  a fair  ending;  for  what 
should  be  the  end  of  music  if  not  the  love  of  beauty  ? 

I agree,  he  said. 

After  music  comes  gymnastics,  in  which  our  youth  are  next 
to  be  trained. 

Certainly. 

Gymnastics  as  well  as  music  should  begin  in  early  years ; the 
training  in  it  should  be  careful  and  should  continue  through 
life.  Now  my  belief  is — and  this  is  a matter  upon  which  I 
should  like  to  have  your  opinion  in  confirmation  of  my  own, 
but  my  own  belief  is — not  that  the  good  body  by  any  bodily 
excellence  improves  the  soul,  but,  on  the  contrary,  that  the 
good  soul,  by  her  own  excellence,  improves  the  body  as  far  as 
this  may  be  possible.  What  do  you  say  ? 

Yes,  I agree. 

Then,  to  the  mind  when  adequately  trained,  we  shall  be  right 
in  handing  over  the  more  particular  care  of  the  body ; and  in 
order  to  avoid  prolixity  we  will  now  only  give  the  general  out- 
lines of  the  subject. 

Very  good. 

That  they  must  abstain  from  intoxication  has  been  already 
remarked  by  us;  for  of  all  persons  a guardian  should  be  the 
last  to  get  drunk  and  not  know  where  in  the  world  he  is. 

Yes,  he  said;  that  a guardian  should  require  another  guar- 
dian to  take  care  of  him  is  ridiculous  indeed. 

But  next,  what  shall  we  say  of  their  food ; for  the  men  are 
in  training  for  the  great  contest  of  all — are  they  not? 

Yes,  he  said. 

And  will  the  habit  of  body  of  our  ordinary  athletes  be  suited 
to  them? 

Why  not? 

I am  afraid,  I said,  that  a habit  of  body  such  as  they  have  is 
but  a sleepy  soft  of  thing,  and  rather  perilous  to  health.  Do 
you  not  observe  that  these  athletes  sleep  away  their  lives,  and 
are  liable  to  most  dangerous  illnesses  if  they  depart,  in  ever  so 
slight  a degree,  from  their  customary  regimen  ? 

Yes,  I do. 

Then,  I said,  a liner  sort  of  training  will  be  required  for  our 
warrior  athletes,  who  are  to  be  like  wakeful  dogs,  and  to  see 


THE  REPUBLIC 


89 


and  hear  with  the  utmost  keenness ; amid  the  many  changes  of 
water  and  also  of  food,  of  summer  heat  and  winter  cold,  which 
they  will  have  to  endure  when  on  a campaign,  they  must  not 
be  liable  to  break  down  in  health. 

That  is  my  view. 

The  really  excellent  gymnastics  is  twin  sister  of  that  simple 
music  which  we  were  just  now  describing. 

How  so  ? 

Why,  I conceive  that  there  is  a gymnastics  which,  like  our 
music,  is  simple  and  good;  and  especially  the  military  gym- 
nastics. 

What  do  you  mean? 

My  meaning  may  be  learned  from  Homer;  he,  you  know, 
feeds  his  heroes  at  their  feasts,  when  they  are  campaigning, 
on  soldiers’  fare;  they  have  no  fish,  although  they  are  on  the 
shores  of  the  Hellespont,  and  they  are  not  allowed  boiled  meats, 
but  only  roast,  which  is  the  food  most  convenient  for  soldiers, 
requiring  only  that  they  should  light  a fire,  and  not  involving 
the  trouble  of  carrying  about  pots  and  pans. 

True. 

And  I can  hardly  be  mistaken  in  saying  that  sweet  sauces 
are  nowhere  mentioned  in  Homer.  In  proscribing  them,  how- 
ever, he  is  not  singular ; all  professional  athletes  are  well  aware 
that  a man  who  is  to  be  in  good  condition  should  take  nothing 
of  the  kind. 

Yes,  he  said;  and  knowing  this,  they  are  quite  right  in  not 
taking  them. 

Then  you  would  not  approve  of  Syracusan  dinners,  and  the 
refinements  of  Sicilian  cookery? 

I think  not. 

Nor,  if  a^man  is  to  be  in  condition,  would  you  allow  him  to 
have  a Corinthian  girl  as  his  fair  friend  ? 

Certainly  not. 

Neither  would  you  approve  of  the  delicacies,  as  they  are 
thought,  of  Athenian  confectionery? 

Certainly  not. 

All  such  feeding  and  living  may  be  rightly  compared  by  us 
to  melody  and  song  composed  in  the  panharmonic  style,  and 
in  all  the  rhythms. 

Exactly. 


90 


PLATO 


There  complexity  engendered  license,  and  here  disease ; 
whereas  simplicity  in  music  was  the  parent  of  temperance  in 
the  soul ; and  simplicity  in  gymnastics  of  health  in  the  body. 

Most  true,  he  said. 

But  when  intemperance  and  diseases  multiply  in  a State, 
halls  of  justice  and  medicine  are  always  being  opened;  and  the 
arts  of  the  doctor  and  the  lawyer  give  themselves  airs,  finding 
how  keen  is  the  interest  which  not  only  the  slaves  but  the  free- 
men of  ' a city  take  about  them. 

Of  course. 

And  yet  what  greater  proof  can  there  be  of  a bad  and  dis- 
graceful state  of  education  than  this,  that  not  only  artisans  and 
the  meaner  sort  of  people  need  the  skill  of  first-rate  physicians 
and  judges,  but  also  those  who  would  profess  to  have  had  a 
liberal  education?  Is  it  not  disgraceful,  and  a great  sign  of 
the  want  of  good-breeding,  that  a man  should  have  to  go  abroad 
for  his  law  and  physic  because  he  has  none  of  his  own  at  home, 
and  must  therefore  surrender  himself  into  the  hands  of  other 
men  whom  he  makes  lords  and  judges  over  him? 

Of  all  things,  he  said,  the  most  disgraceful. 

Would  you  say  ''  most,'’  I replied^  when  you  consider  that 
there  is  a further  stage  of  the  evil  in  which  a man  is  not  only 
a life-long  litigant,  passing  all  his  days  in  the  courts,  either 
as  plantiff  or  defendant,  but  is  actually  led  by  his  bad  taste  to 
pride  himself  on  his  litigiousness ; he  imagines  that  he  is  a mas- 
ter in  dishonesty ; able  to  take  every  crooked  turn,  and  wriggle 
into  and  out  of  every  hole,  bending  like  a withy  and  getting 
out  of  the  way  of  justice:  and  all  for  what? — in  order  to  gain 
small  points  not  worth  mentioning,  he  not  knowing  that  so  to 
order  his  life  as  to  be  able  to  do  without  a napping  judge  is  a 
far  higher  and  nobler  sort  of  thing.  Is  not  that  still  more  dis- 
graceful ? 

Yes,  he  said,  that  is  still  more  disgraceful. 

Well,  I said,  and  to  require  the  help  of  medicine,  not  when 
a wound  has  to  be  cured,  or  on  occasion  of  an  epidemic,  but 
just  because,  by  indolence  and  a habit  of  life  such  as  we  have 
been  describing,  men  fill  themselves  with  waters  and  winds, 
as  if  their  bodies  were  a marsh,  compelling  the  ingenious  sons 
of  Asclepius  to  find  more  names  for  diseases,  such  as  flatulence 
and  catarrh ; is  not  this,  too,  a disgrace  ? 


THE  REPUBLIC 


9* 


Yes,  he  said,  they  do  certainly  give  very  strange  and  new- 
fangled names  to  diseases. 

Yes,  I said,  and  I do  not  believe  that  there  were  any  such 
diseases  in  the  days  of  Asclepius ; and  this  I infer  from  the  cir- 
cumstance that  the  hero  Eurypylus,  after  he  has  been  wounded 
in  Homer,  drinks  a posset  of  Pramnian  wine  well  besprinkled 
with  barley-meal  and  grated  cheese,  which  are  certainly  in- 
flammatory, and  yet  the  sons  of  Asclepius  who  were  at  the 
Trojan  war  do  not  blame  the  damsel  who  gives  him  the  drink, 
or  rebuke  Patroclus,  who  is  treating  his  case. 

Well,  he  said,  that  was  surely  an  extraordinary  drink  to  be 
given  to  a person  in  his  condition. 

Not  so  extraordinary,  I replied,  if  you  bear  in  mind  that  in 
former  days,  as  is  commonly  said,  before  the  time  of  Herodicus, 
the  guild  of  Asclepius  did  not  practise  our  present  system  of 
medicine,  which  may  be  said  to  educate  diseases.  But  Herodi- 
cus, being  a trainer,  and  himself  of  a sickly  constitution,  by  a 
combination  of  training  and  doctoring  found  out  a way  of  tor- 
turing first  and  chiefly  himself,  and  secondly  the  rest  of  the 
world. 

How  was  that?  he  said. 

By  the  invention  of  lingering  death;  for  he  had  a mortal 
disease  which  he  perpetually  tended,  and  as  recovery  was  out . 
of  the  question,  he  passed  his  entire  life  as  a valetudinarian ; 
he  could  do  nothing  but  attend  upon  himself,  and  he  was  in 
constant  torment  whenever  he  departed  in  anything  from  his 
usual  regimen,  and  so  dying  hard,  by  the  help  of  science  he 
struggled  on  to  old  age. 

A rare  reward  of  his  skill ! 

Yes,  I said ; a reward  which  a man  might  fairly  expect  who 
never  understood  that,  if  Asclepius  did  not  instruct  his  de- 
scendants in  valetudinarian  arts,  the  omission  arose,  not  from 
ignorance  or  inexperience  of  such  a branch  of  medicine,  but 
because  he  knew  that  in  all  well-ordered  States  every  individual 
has  an  occupation  to  which  he  must  attend,  and  has  therefore 
no  leisure  to  spend  in  continuallly  being  ill.  This  we  remark 
in  the  case  of  the  artisan,  but,  ludicrously  enough,  do  not  apply 
the  same  rule  to  people  of  the  richer  sort. 

How  do  you  mean  ? he  said. 

I mean  this : When  a carpenter  is  ill  he  asks  the  physician 


92 


PLATO 


for  a rough  and  ready  cure ; an  emetic  or  a purge  or  a cautery 
or  the  knife — these  are  his  remedies.  And  if  someone  pre- 
scribes for  him  a course  of  dietetics,  and  tells  him  that  he  must 
swathe  and  swaddle  his  head,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing,  he  re- 
plies at  once  that  he  has  no  time  to  be  ill,  and  that  he  sees  no 
good  in  a life  which  is  spent  in  nursing  his  disease  to  the  neglect 
of  his  customary  employment ; and  therefore  bidding  good-by 
to  this  sort  of  physician,  he  resumes  his  ordinary  habits,  and 
either  gets  well  and  lives  and  does  his  business^  or,  if  his  con- 
stitution fails,  he  dies  and  has  no  more  trouble. 

Yes,  he  said,  and  a man  in  his  condition  of  life  ought  to  use 
the  art  of  medicine  thus  far  only. 

Has  he  not,  I said,  an  occupation;  and  what  profit  would 
there  be  in  his  life  if  he  were  deprived  of  his  occupation  ? 

Quite  true,  he  said. 

But  with  the  rich  man  this  is  otherwise ; of  him  we  do  not 
say  that  he  has  any  specially  appointed  work  which  he  must 
perform,  if  he  would  live. 

He  is  generally  supposed  to  have  nothing  to  do. 

Then  you  never  heard  of  the  saying  of  Phocylides,  that  as 
soon  as  a man  has  a livelihood  he  should  practise  virtue? 

Nay,  he  said,  I think  that  he  had  better  begin  somewhat 
sooner. 

Let  us  not  have  a dispute  with  him  about  this,  I said;  but 
rather  ask  ourselves:  Is  the  practise  of  virtue  obligatory  on 
the  rich  man,  or  can  he  live  without  it?  And  if  obligatory  on 
him,  then  let  us  raise  a further  question,  whether  this  dieting 
of  disorders,  which  is  an  impediment  to  the  application  of  the 
mind  in  carpentering  and  the  mechanical  arts,  does  not  equally 
stand  in  the  way  of  the  sentiment  of  Phocylides  ? 

Of  that,  he  replied,  there  can  be  no  doubt;  such  excessive 
care  of  the  body,  when  carried  beyond  the  rules  of  gymnastics, 
is  most  inimical  to  the  practice  of  virtue. 

^Yes,  indeed,  I replied,  and  equally  incompatible  with  the 
management  of  a house,  an  army,  or  an  office  of  state;  and, 
what  is  most  important  of  all,  irreconcileable  with  any  kind 
of  study  or  thought  or  self-reflection — there  is  a constant  sus- 
picion that  headache  and  giddiness  are  to  be  ascribed  to  philos- 
ophy, and  hence  all  practising  or  making  trial  of  virtue  in  the 

* Making  the  answer  of  Socrates  begin  at  <cai  ’J’pds  K.r.h» 


THE  REPUBLIC 


93 


higher  sense  is  absolutely  stopped ; for  a man  is  always  fancy- 
ing that  he  is  being  made  ill,  and  is  in  constant  anxiety  about 
the  state  of  his  body. 

Yes,  likely  enough. 

And  therefore  our  politic  Asclepius  may  be  supposed  to  have 
exhibited  the  power  of  his  art  only  to  persons  who,  being  gen- 
erally of  healthy  constitution  and  habits  of  life,  had  a definite 
ailment ; such  as  these  he  cured  by  purges  and  operations,  and 
bade  them  live  as  usual^  herein  consulting  the  interests  of  the 
State;  but  bodies  which  disease  had  penetrated  through  and 
through  he  would  not  have  attempted  to  cure  by  gradual  proc- 
uresses of  evacuation  and  infusion:  he  did  not  want  to  lengthen 
out  good-for-nothing  lives,  or  to  have  weak  fathers  begetting 
weaker  sons ; — if  a man  was  not  able  to  live  in  the  ordinary  way 
he  had  no  business  to  cure  him;  for  such  a cure  would  have 
been  of  no  use  either  to  himself,  or  to  the  State. 

Then,  he  said,  you  regard  Asclepius  as  a statesman. 

Clearly ; and  his  character  is  further  illustrated  by  his  sons. 
Note  that  they  were  heroes  in  the  days  of  old  and  practised 
the  medicines  of  which  I am  speaking  at  the  siege  of  Troy: 
You  will  remember  how,  when  Pandarus  wounded  Menelaus, 
they 

“ Sucked  the  blood  out  of  the  wound,  and  sprinkled  soothing  remedies,”  * 

but  they  never  prescribed  what  the  patient  was  afterward  to 
eat  or  drink  in  the  case  of  Menelaus,  any  more  than  in  the  case 
of  Eurypylus ; the  remedies,  as  they  conceived,  were  enough 
to  heal  any  man  who  before  he  was  wounded  was  healthy  and 
regular  in  his  habits ; and  even  though  he  did  happen  to  drink 
a posset  of  Pramnian  wine,  he  might  get  well  all  the  same. 
But  they  would  have  nothing  to  do  with  unhealthy  and  intem- 
perate subjects,  whose  lives  were  of  no  use  either  to  themselves 
or  others ; the  art  of  medicine  was  not  designed  for  their  good, 
and  though  they  were  as  rich  as  Midas,  the  sons  of  Asclepius 
would  have  declined  to  attend  them. 

They  were  very  acute  persons,  those  sons  of  Asclepius. 

Naturally  so,  I replied.  Nevertheless,  the  tragedians  and 
Pindar  disobeying  our  behests,  although  they  acknowledge  that 
Asclepius  was  the  son  of  Apollo,  say  also  that  he  was  bribed 

1 “ Iliad,”  iv.  218. 


94 


PLATO 


into  healing  a rich  man  who  was  at  the  point  of  death,  and  for 
this  reason  he  was  struck  by  lightning.  But  we,  in  accordance 
with  the  principle  already  affirmed  by  us,  will  not  believe  them 
when  they  tell  us  both ; if  he  was  the  son  of  a god,  we  maintain 
that  he  was  not  avaricious ; or,  if  he  was  avaricious,  he  was  not 
the  son  of  a god. 

All  that,  Socrates,  is  excellent;  but  I should  like  to  put  a 
question  to  you:  Ought  there  not  to  be  good  physicians  in  a 
State,  and  are  not  the  best  those  who  have  treated  the  greatest 
number  of  constitutions,  good  and  bad?  and  are  not  the  best 
judges  in  like  manner  those  who  are  acquainted  with  all  sorts 
of  moral  natures? 

Yes,  I said,  I too  would  have  good  judges  and  good  physi- 
cians. But  do  you  know  whom  I think  good? 

Will  you  tell  me? 

I will,  if  I can.  Let  me,  however,  note  that  in  the  same  ques- 
tion you  join  two  things  which  are  not  the  same. 

How  so?  he  asked. 

Why,  I said,  you  join  physicians  and  judges.  Now  the  most 
skilful  physicians  are  those  who,  from  their  youth  upward, 
have  combined  with  the  knowledge  of  their  art  the  greatest 
experience  of  disease ; they  had  better  not  be  robust  in  health, 
and  should  have  had  all  manner  of  diseases  in  their  own  per- 
sons. For  the  body,  as  I conceive,  is  not  the  instrument  with 
which  they  cure  the  body ; in  that  case  we  could  not  allow  them 
ever  to  be  or  to  have  been  sickly ; but  they  cure  the  body  with 
the  mind,  and  the  mind  which  has  become  and  is  sick  can  cure 
nothing. 

That  is  very  true,  he  said. 

But  with  the  judge  it  is  otherwise;  since  he  governs  mind 
by  mind;  he  ought  not  therefore  to  have  been  trained  among 
vicious  minds,  and  to  have  associated  with  them  from  youth 
upward,  and  to  have  gone  through  the  whole  calendar  of  crime, 
only  in  order  that  he  may  quickly  infer  the  crimes  of  others  as 
he  might  their  bodily  diseases  from  his  own  self-consciousness ; 
the  honorable  mind  which  is  to  form  a healthy  judgment  should 
have  had  no  experience  or  contamination  of  evil  habits  when 
young.  And  this  is  the  reason  why  in  youth  good  men  often 
appear  to  be  simple,  and  are  easily  practised  upon  by  the  dis- 
honest, because  they  have  no  examples  of  what  evil  is  in 
their  own  souls. 


THE  REPUBLIC 


95 


Yes,  he  said,  they  are  far  too  apt  to  be  deceived. 

^ Therefore,  I said,  the  judge  should  not  be  young;  he  should 
have  learned  to  know  evil,  not  from  his  own  soul,  but  from  late 
and  long  observation  of  the  nature  of  evil  in  others : knowledge 
should  be  his  guide,  not  personal  experience. 

Yes,  he  said,  that  is  the  ideal  of  a judge. 

Yes,  I replied,  and  he  will  be  a good  man  (which  is  my  an- 
swer to  your  question)  ; for  he  is  good  who  has  a good  soul. 
But  the  cunning  and  suspicious  nature  of  which  we  spoke — 
he  who  has  committed  many  crimes,  and  fancies  himself  to  be 
a master  in  wickedness — when  he  is  among  his  fellows,  is  won- 
de’rful  in  the  precautions  which  he  takes,  because  he  judges  of 
them  by  himself:  but  when  he  gets  into  the  company  of  men 
of  virtue,  who  have  the  experience  of  age,  he  appears  to  be  a 
fool  again,  owing  to  his  unseasonable  suspicions;  he  cannot 
recognize  an  honest  man,  because  he  has  no  pattern  of  honesty 
in  himself;  at  the  same  time,  as  the  bad  are  more  numerous 
than  the  good,  and  he  meets  with  them  oftener,  he  thinks  him- 
self, and  is  by  others  thought  to  be,  rather  wise  than  foolish. 

Most  true,  he  said. 

Then  the  good  and  wise  judge  whom  we  are  seeking  is  not 
this  man,  but  the  other ; for  vice  cannot  know  virtue  too,  but 
a virtuous  nature,  educated  by  time,  will  acquire  a knowledge 
both  of  virtue  and  vice : the  virtuous,  and  not  the  vicious,  man 
has  wisdom — in  my  opinion. 

And  in  mine  also. 

This  is  the  sort  of  medicine,  and  this  is  the  sort  of  law,  which 
you  will  sanction  in  your  State.  They  will  minister  to  better 
natures,  giving  health  both  of  soul  and  of  body ; but  those  who 
are  diseased  in  their  bodies  they  will  leave  to  die,  and  the  cor- 
rupt and  incurable  souls  they  will  put  an  end  to  themselves. 

That  is  clearly  the  best  thing  both  for  the  patients  and  for  the 
State. 

And  thus  our  youth,  having  been  educated  only  in  that  sim- 
ple music  which,  as  we  said,  inspires  temperance,  will  be  re- 
luctant to  go  to  law. 

Clearly. 

And  the  musician,  who,  keeping  to  the  same  track,  is  con- 
tent to  practise  the  simple  gymnastics,  will  have  nothing  to  do 
with  medicine  unless  in  some  extreme  case. 


96 


PLATO 


That  I quite  believe. 

The  very  exercises  and  toils  which  he  undergoes  are  intended 
to  stimulate  the  spirited  element  of  his  nature,  and  not  to  in- 
crease his  strength ; he  will  not,  like  common  athletes,  use  exer- 
cise and  regimen  to  develop  his  muscles. 

Very  right,  he  said. 

Neither  are  the  two  arts  of  music  and  gymnastics  really  de- 
signed, as  is  often  supposed,  the  one  for  the  training  of  the  soul, 
the  other  for  the  training  of  the  body. 

What  then  is  the  real  object  of  them? 

I believe,  I said,  that  the  teachers  of  both  have  in  view  chiefly 
the  improvement  of  the  soul. 

How  can  that  be?  he  asked. 

Did  you  never  observe,  I said,  the  effect  on  the  mind  itself 
of  exclusive  devotion  to  gymnastics,  or  the  opposite  effect  of  an 
exclusive  devotion  to  music? 

In  what  way  shown?  he  said. 

The  one  producing  a temper  of  hardness  and  ferocity,  the 
other  of  softness  and  effeminacy,  I replied. 

Yes,  he  said,  I am  quite  aware  that  the  mere  athlete  becomes 
too  much  of  a savage,  and  that  the  mere  musician  is  melted 
and  softened  beyond  what  is  good  for  him. 

Yet  surely  ,I  said,  this  ferocity  only  comes  from  spirit,  which, 
if  rightly  educated,  would  give  courage,  but,  if  too  much  in- 
tensified, is  liable  to  become  hard  and  brutal. 

That  I quite  think. 

On  the  other  hand  the  philosopher  will  have  the  quality  of 
gentleness.  And  this  also,  when  too  much  indulged,  will  turn 
to  softness,  but,  if  educated  rightly,  will  be  gentle  and  mod- 
erate. 

True. 

And  in  our  opinion  the  guardians  ought  to  have  both  these 
qualities  ? 

Assuredly. 

And  both  should  be  in  harmony? 

Beyond  question. 

And  the  harmonious  soul  is  both  temperate  and  courageous  ? 

Yes. 

And  the  inharmonious  is  cowardly  and  boorish? 

Very  true. 


THE  REPUBLIC 


97 


And,  when  a man  allows  music  to  play  upon  him  and  to  pour 
into  his  soul  through  the  funnel  of  his  ears  those  sweet  and 
soft  and  melancholy  airs  of  which  we  were  just  now  speaking, 
and  his  whole  life  is  passed  in  warbling  and  the  delights  of 
song ; in  the  first  stage  of  the  process  the  passion  or  spirit  which 
is  in  him  is  tempered  like  iron,  and  made  useful,  instead  of  brit- 
tle and  useless.  But,  if  he  carries  on  the  softening  and  sooth- 
ing process,  in  the  next  stage  he  begins  to  melt  and  waste, 
until  he  has  wasted  away  his  spirit  and  cut  out  the  sinews  of 
his  soul ; and  he  becomes  a feeble  warrior. 

Very  true. 

If  the  element  of  spirit  is  naturally  weak  in  him  the  change 
is  speedily  accomplished,  but  if  he  have  a good  deal,  then  the 
power  of  music  weakening  the  spirit  renders  him  excitable ; on 
the  least  provocation  he  flames  up  at  once,  and  is  speedily  ex- 
tinguished ; instead  of  having  spirit  he  grows  irritable  and  pas- 
sionate and  is  quite  impractical. 

Exactly. 

And  so  in  gymnastics,  if  a man  takes  violent  exercise  and 
is  a great  feeder,  and  the  reverse  of  a great  student  of  music 
and  philosophy,  at  first  the  high  condition  of  his  body  fills  him 
with  pride  and  spirit,  and  he  becomes  twice  the  man  that  he 
was. 

Certainly. 

And  what  happens  ? if  he  do  nothing  else,  and  holds  no  con- 
verse with  the  muses,  does  not  even  that  intelligence  which 
there  may  be  in  him,  having  no  taste  of  any  sort  of  learning  or 
inquiry  or  thought  or  culture,  grow  feeble  and  dull  and  blind, 
his  mind  never  waking  up  or  receiving  nourishment,  and  his 
senses  not  being  purged  of  their  mists  ? 

True,  he  said. 

And  he  ends  by  becoming  a hater  of  philosophy,  uncivilized, 
never  using  the  weapon  of  persuasion — he  is  like  a wild  beast, 
all  violence  and  fierceness,  and  knows  no  other  way  of  dealing ; 
and  he  lives  in  all  ignorance  and  evil  conditions,  and  has  no 
sense  of  propriety  and  grace. 

That  is  quite  true,  he  said. 

And  as  there  are  two  principles  of  human  nature,  one  the 
spirited  and  the  other  the  philosophical,  some  god,  as  I should 
say,  has  given  mankind  two  arts  answering  to  them  (and  only 


98 


PLATO 


indirectly  to  the  soul  and  body),  in  order  that  these  two  prin- 
ciples (like  the  strings  of  an  instrument)  may  be  relaxed  or 
drawn  tighter  until  they  are  duly  harmonized. 

That  appears  to  be  the  intention. 

And  he  who  mingles  music  with  gymnastics  in  the  fairest 
proportions,  and  best  attempers  them  to  the  soul,  may  be  rightly 
called  the  true  musician  and  harmonist  in  a far  higher  sense 
than  the  tuner  of  the  strings. 

You  are  quite  right,  Socrates. 

And  such  a presiding  genius  will  be  always  required  in  our 
State  if  the  government  is  to  last. 

Yes,  he  will  be  absolutely  necessary. 

Such,  then,  are  our  principles  of  nurture  and  education: 
Where  would  be  the  use  of  going  into  further  details  about 
the  dances  of  our  citizens,  or  about  their  hunting  and  coursing, 
their  gymnastic  and  equestrian  contests?  For  these  all  follow 
the  general  principle,  and  having  found  that,  we  shall  have  no 
difficulty  in  discovering  them. 

I dare  say  that  there  will  be  no  difficulty. 

Very  good,  I said;  then  what  is  the  next  question?  Must 
we  not  ask  who  are  to  be  rulers  and  who  subjects? 

Certainly. 

There  can  be  no  doubt  that  the  elder  must  rule  the  younger. 

Clearly. 

And  that  the  best  of  these  must  rule. 

That  is  also  clear. 

Now,  are  not  the  best  husbandmen  those  who  are  most  de- 
voted to  husbandry? 

Yes. 

And  as  we  are  to  have  the  best  of  guardians  for  our  city,  must 
they  not  be  those  who  have  most  the  character  of  guardians  ? 

Yes. 

And  to  this  end  they  ought  to  be  wise  and  efficient,  and  to 
have  a special  care  of  the  State  ? 

True. 

And  a man  will  be  most  likely  to  care  about  that  which  he 
loves  ? 

To  be  sure. 

And  he  will  be  most  likely  to  love  that  which  he  regards  as 
having  the  same  interests  with  himself,  and  that  of  which  the 


THE  REPUBLIC 


99 

good  or  evil  fortune  is  supposed  by  him  at  any  time  most  to 
affect  his  own? 

Very  true,  he  replied. 

^ Then  there  must  be  a selection.  Let  us  note  among  the 
guardians  those  who  in  their  whole  life  show  the  greatest  eager- 
' ness  to  do  what  is  for  the  good  of  their  country,  and  the  greatest 
repugnance  to  do  what  is  against  her  interests. 

Those  are  the  right  men. 

And  they  will  have  to  be  watched  at  every  age,  in  order 
that  we  may  see  whether  they  preserve  their  resolution,  and 
never,  under  the  influence  either  of  force  or  enchantment,  for- 
get or  cast  off  their  sense  of  duty  to  the  State. 

How  cast  off  ? he  said. 

I will  explain  to  you,  he  replied.  A resolution  may  go  out 
of  a man’s  mind  either  with  his  will  or  against  his  will;  with 
his  will  when  he  gets  rid  of  a falsehood  and  learns  better, 
against  his  will  whenever  he  is  deprived  of  a truth. 

I understand,  he  said,  the  willing  loss  of  a resolution;  the 
meaning  of  the  unwilling  I have  yet  to  learn. 

Why,  I said,  do  you  not  see  that  men  are  unwillingly  de- 
prived of  good,  and  willingly  of  evil?  Is  not  to  have  lost  the 
truth  an  evil,  and  to  possess  the  truth  a good  ? and  you  would 
agree  that  to  conceive  things  as  they  are  is  to  possess  the  truth  ? 

Yes,  he  replied;  I agree  with  you  in  thinking  that  mankind 
are  deprived  of  truth  against  their  will. 

And  is  not  this  involuntary  deprivation  caused  either  by  theft, 
or  force,  or  enchantment  ? 

Still,  he  replied,  I do  not  understand  you. 

I fear  that  I must  have  been  talking  darkly,  like  the  trage- 
dians. I only  mean  that  some  men  are  changed  by  persuasion 
and  that  others  forget ; argument  steals  away  the  hearts  of  one 
class,  and  time  of  the  other;  and  this  I call  theft.  Now  you 
understand  me? 

Yes. 

Those  again  who  are  forced,  are  those  whom  the  violence 
of  some  pain  or  grief  compels  to  change  their  opinion. 

I understand,  he  said,  and  you  are  quite  right. 

And  you  would  also  acknowledge  that  the  enchanted  are 
those  who  change  their  minds  either  under  the  softer  influence 
of  pleasure,  or  the  sterner  influence  of  fear  ? 


100 


PLATO 


Yes,  he  said ; everything  that  deceives  may  be  said  to  enchant. 

Therefore,  as  I was  just  now  saying,  we  must  inquire  who 
are  the  best  guardians  of  their  own  conviction  that  what  they 
think  the  interest  of  the  State  is  to  be  the  rule  of  their  lives. 
We  must  watch  them  from  their  youth  upward,  and  make  them 
perform  actions  in  which  they  are  most  likely  to  forget  or  to 
be  deceived,  and  he  who  remembers  and  is  not  deceived  is  to 
be  selected,  and  he  who  fails  in  the  trial  is  to  be  rejected.  That 
will  be  the  way  ? 

Yes. 

And  there  should  also  be  toils  and  pains  and  conflicts  pre- 
scribed for  them,  in  which  they  will  be  made  to  give  further 
proof  of  the  same  qualities. 

Very  right,  he  replied. 

And  then,  I said,  we  must  try  them  with  enchantments — that 
is  the  third  sort  of  test — and  see  what  will  be  their  behavior: 
like  those  who  take  colts  amid  noise  and  tumult  to  see  if  they 
are  of  a timid  nature,  so  must  we  take  our  youth  amid  terrors 
of  some  kind,  and  again  pass  them  into  pleasures,  and  prove 
them  more  thoroughly  than  gold  is  proved  in  the  furnace,  that 
we  may  discover  whether  they  are  armed  against  all  enchant- 
ments, and  of  a noble  bearing  always,  good  guardians  of  them- 
selves and  of  the  music  which  they  have  learned,  and  retaining 
under  all  circumstances  a rhythmical  and  harmonious  nature, 
such  as  will  be  most  serviceable  to  the  individual  and  to  the 
State.  And  he  who  at  every  age,  as  boy  and  youth  and  in 
mature  life,  has  come  out  of  the  trial  victorious  and  pure,  shall 
be  appointed  a ruler  and  guardian  of  the  State;  he  shall  be 
honored  in  life  and  death,  and  shall  receive  sepulture  and  other 
memorials  of  honor,  the  greatest  that  we  have  to  give.  But 
him  who  fails,  we  must  reject.  I am  inclined  to  think  that 
this  is  the  sort  of  way  in  which  our  rulers  and  guardians  should 
be  chosen  and  appointed.  I speak  generally,  and  not  with  any 
pretension  to  exactness. 

And,  speaking  generally,  I agree  with  you,  he  said. 

And  perhaps  the  word  guardian  ’’  in  the  fullest  sense  ought 
to  be  applied  to  this  higher  class  only  who  preserve  us  against 
foreign  enemies  and  maintain  peace  among  our  citizens  at 
home,  that  the  one  may  not  have  the  will,  or  the  others  the 
power,  to  harm  us.  The  young  men  whom  we  before  called 


THE  REPUBLIC 


lOI 


guardians  may  be  more  properly  designated  auxiliaries  and 
si:pporters  of  the  principles  of  the  rulers. 

I agree  with  you,  he  said. 

How  then  may  we  devise  one  of  those  needful  falsehoods  of 
which  we  lately  spoke — just  one  royal  lie  which  may  deceive 
tht:  rulers,  if  that  be  possible,  and  at  any  rate  the  rest  of  the 
city? 

\/hat  sort  of  lie?  he  said. 

Nothing  new^  I replied ; only  an  old  Phoenician  ^ tale  of  what 
has  often  occurred  before  now  in  other  places  (as  the  poets 
say,  and  have  made  the  world  believe),  though  not  in  our  time, 
and  I do  not  know  whether  such  an  event  could  ever  happen 
again,  or  could  now  even  be  made  probable,  if  it  did. 

How  your  words  seem  to  hesitate  on  your  lips ! 

You  will  not  wonder,  I replied,  at  my  hesitation  when  you 
have  heard. 

Speak,  he  said,  and  fear  not. 

Well,  then,  I will  speak,  although  I really  know  not  how  to 
look  you  in  the  face,  or  in  what  words  to  utter  the  audacious 
fiction,  which  I propose  to  communicate  gradually,  first  to  the 
rulers,  then  to  the  soldiers,  and  lastly  to  the  people.  They  are 
to  be  told  that  their  youth  was  a dream,  and  the  education  and 
training  which  they  received  from  us,  an  appearance  only ; in 
reality  during  all  that  time  they  were  being  formed  and  fed  in 
the  womb  of  the  earth,  where  they  themselves  and  their  arms 
and  appurtenances  were  manufactured ; when  they  were  com- 
pleted, the  earth,  their  mother,  sent  them  up ; and  so,  their  coun- 
try being  their  mother  and  also  their  nurse,  they  are  bound  to 
advise  for  her  good,  and  to  defend  her  against  attacks,  and  her 
citizens  they  are  to  regard  as  children  of  the  earth  and  their 
own  brothers. 

You  had  good  reason,  he  said,  to  be  ashamed  of  the  lie  which 
you  were  going  to  tell. 

True,  I replied,  but  there  is  more  coming;  I have  only  told 
you  half.  Citizens,  we  shall  say  to  them  in  our  tale,  you  are 
brothers,  yet  God  has  framed  you  differently.  Some  of  you 
have  the  power  of  command,  and  in  the  composition  of  these 
he  has  mingled  gold,  wherefore  also  they  have  the  greatest 
honor;  others  he  has  made  of  silver,  to  be  auxiliaries;  others 

» Cp.  “ Laws,”  663  £. 


T02 


PLATO 


again  who  are  to  be  husbandmen  and  craftsmen  he  has  com- 
posed of  brass  and  iron ; and  the  species  will  generally  be  pre- 
served in  the  children.  But  as  all  are  of  the  same  original 
stock,  a golden  parent  will  sometimes  have  a silver  son,  or  a 
silver  parent  a golden  son.  And  God  proclaims  as  a first  prin- 
ciple to  the  rulers^  and  above  all  else,  that  there  is  nothing  which 
they  should  so  anxiously  guard,  or  of  which  they  are  to  be  such 
good  guardians,  as  of  the  purity  of  the  race.  They  should  ob- 
serve what  elements  mingle  in  their  offspring;  for  if  the  son 
of  a golden  or  silver  parent  has  an  admixture  of  brass  and  iron, 
then  nature  orders  a transposition  of  ranks,  and  the  eye  of  the 
ruler  must  not  be  pitiful  toward  the  child  because  he  has  to 
descend  in  the  scale  and  become  a husbandman  or  artisan,  just 
as  there  may  be  sons  of  artisans  who  having  an  admixture  of 
gold  or  silver  in  them  are  raised  to  honor,  and  become  guardians 
or  auxiliaries.  For  an  oracle  says  that  when  a man  of  brass 
or  iron  guards  the  State,  it  will  be  destroyed.  Such  is  the  tale ; 
is  there  any  possibility  of  making  our  citizens  believe  in  it  ? 

Not  in  the  present  generation,  he  replied;  there  is  no  way 
of  accomplishing  this;  but  their  sons  may  be  made  to  believe 
in  the  tale,  and  their  sons’  sons,  and  posterity  after  them. 

I see  the  difficulty,  I replied ; yet  the  fostering  of  such  a be- 
lief will  make  them  care  more  for  the  city  and  for  one  another. 
Enough,  however,  of  the  fiction,  which  may  now  fly  abroad 
upon  the  wings  of  rumor,  while  we  arm  our  earth-born  heroes, 
and  lead  them  forth  under  the  command  of  their  rulers.  Let 
them  look  round  and  select  a spot  whence  they  can  best  sup- 
press insurrection,  if  any  prove  refractory  within,  and  also  de- 
fend themselves  against  enemies,  who,  like  wolves,  may  come 
down  on  the  fold  from  without;  there  let  them  encamp,  and 
when  they  have  encamped,  let  them  sacrifice  to  the  proper  gods 
and  prepare  their  dwellings. 

Just  so,  he  said. 

And  their  dwellings  must  be  such  as  will  shield  them  against 
the  cold  of  winter  and  the  heat  of  summer. 

I suppose  that  you  mean  houses,  he  replied. 

Yes,  I said ; but  they  must  be  the  houses  of  soldiers,  and  not 
of  shopkeepers. 

\ What  is  the  difference?  he  said. 

That  I will  endeavor  to  explain,  I replied.  To  keep  watch- 


THE  REPUBLIC 


103 


dogs,  who,  from  want  of  discipline  or  hunger,  or  some  evil 
habit  or  other,  would  turn  upon  the  sheep  and  worry  them,  and 
behave  not  like  dogs,  but  wolves,  would  be  a foul  and  mon- 
strous thing  in  a shepherd  ? 

Truly  monstrous,  he  said. 

And  therefore  every  care  must  be  taken  that  our  auxiliaries, 
being  stronger  than  our  citizens,  may  not  grow  to  be  too  much 
for  them  and  become  savage  tyrants  instead  of  friends  and 
allies  ? 

Yes,  great  care  should  be  taken. 

And  would  not  a really  good  education  furnish  the  best  safe- 
guard ? 

But  they  are  well-educated  already,  he  replied. 

I cannot  be  so  confident,  my  dear  Glaucon,  I said ; I am  much 
more  certain  that  they  ought  to  be,  and  that  true  education, 
whatever  that  may  be,  will  have  the  greatest  tendency  to  civilize 
and  humanize  them  in  their  relations  to  one  another,  and  to 
those  who  are  under  their  protection. 

Very  true,  he  replied. 

And  not  only  their  education,  but  their  habitations,  and  all 
that  belongs  to  them,  should  be  such  as  will  neither  impair 
their  virtue  as  guardians,  nor  tempt  them  to  prey  upon  the  other 
citizens.  Any  man  of  sense  must  acknowledge  that. 

He  must. 

Then  now  let  us  consider  what  will  be  their  way  of  life,  if 
they  are  to  realize  our  idea  of  them.  In  the  first  place,  none 
of  them  should  have  any  property  of  his  own  beyond  what  is 
absolutely  necessary ; neither  should  they  have  a private  house 
or  store  closed  against  anyone  whp  has  a mind  to  enter ; their 
provisions  should  be  only  such  as  are  required  by  trained  war- 
riors, who  are  men  of  temperance  and  courage;  they  should 
agree  to  receive  from  the  citizens  a fixed  rate  of  pay,  enough  to 
meet  the  expenses  of  the  year  and  no  more;  and  they  will  go 
to  mess  and  live  together  like  soldiers  in  a camp.  Gold  and 
silver  we  will  tell  them  that  they  have  from  God ; the  diviner 
metal  is  within  them,  and  they  have  therefore  no  need  of  the 
dross  which  is  current  among  men,  and  ought  not  to  pollute 
the  divine  by  any  such  earthly  admixture ; for  that  commoner 
metal  has  been  the  source  of  many  unholy  deeds,  but  their  own 

is  undefiled.  And  they  alone  of  all  the  citizens  may  not  touch  or 
Classics.  Vol.  31 — 9 


104 


PLATO 


handle  silver  or  gold,  or  be  under  the  same  roof  with  them,  or 
wear  them,  or  drink  from  them.  And  this  will  be  their  salva- 
tion, and  they  will  be  the  saviours  of  the  State.  But  should 
they  ever  acquire  homes  or  lands  or  moneys  of  their  own,  they 
will  become  good  housekeepers  and  husbandmen  instead  of 
guardians,  enemies  and  tyrants  instead  of  allies  of  the  other 
citizens;  hating  and  being  hated,  plotting  and  being  plotted 
against,  they  will  pass  their  whole  life  in  much  greater  ter- 
ror of  internal  than  of  external  enemies,  and  the  hour  of  ruin, 
both  to  themselves  and  to  the  rest  of  the  State,  will  be  at 
hand.  For  all  which  reasons  may  we  not  say  that  thus  shall 
our  State  be  ordered^  and  that  these  shall  be  the  regulations 
appointed  by  us  for  our  guardians  concerning  their  houses 
and  all  other  matters  ? 

Yes,  said  Glaucon. 


BOOK  IV 

WEALTH,  POVERTY,  AND  VIRTUE 


Adeimantus,  Socrates. 

Here  Adeimantus  interposed  a question:  How  would 
you  answer,  Socrates,  said  he,  if  a person  were  to 
say  that  you  are  making  ^ these  people  miserable,  and 
that  they  are  the  cause  of  their  own  unhappiness;  the  city 
in  fact  belongs  to  them,  but  they  are  none  the  better  for  it; 
whereas  other  men  acquire  lands,  and  build  large  and  hand- 
some houses,  and  have  everything  handsome  about  them,  offer- 
ing sacrifices  to  the  gods  on  their  own  account,  and  practis- 
ing hospitality ; moreover,  as  you  were  saying  just  now,  they 
have  gold  and  silver,  and  all  that  is  usual  among  the  favorites 
of  fortune;  but  our  poor  citizens  are  no  better  than  merce- 
naries who  are  quartered  in  the  city  and  are  always  mounting 
guard  ? 

Yes,  I said;  and  you  may  add  that  they  are  only  fed,  and 
not  paid  in  addition  to  their  food,  like  other  men ; and  there- 
fore they  cannot,  if  they  would,  take  a journey  of  pleasure; 
they  have  no  money  to  spend  on  a mistress  or  any  other  luxu- 
rious fancy,  which,  as  the  world  goes,  is  thought  to  be  happi- 
ness; and  many  other  accusations  of  the  same  nature  might 
be  added. 

But,  said  he,  let  us  suppose  all  this  to  be  included  in  the 
charge. 

You  mean  to  ask,  I said,  what  will  be  our  answer? 

Yes. 

If  we  proceed  along  the  old  path,  my  belief,  I said,  is  that 
we  shall  find  the  answer.  And  our  answer  will  be  that,  even 
as  they  are,  our  guardians  may  very  likely  be  the  happiest 

* Or,  “that  for  their  own  good  you  are  making  these  people  miserable.’* 

105 


io6 


PLATO 


of  men ; but  that  our  aim  in  founding  the  State  was  not  the 
disproportionate  happiness  of  any  one  class,  but  the  greatest 
happiness  of  the  whole;  we  thought  that  in  a State  which 
is  ordered  with  a view  to  the  good  of  the  whole  we  should 
be  most  likely  to  find  justice,  and  in  the  ill-ordered  State  in- 
justice : and,  having  found  them,  we  might  then  decide  which 
of  the  two  is  the  happier.  At  present,  I take  it,  we  are  fash- 
ioning the  happy  State,  not  piecemeal,  or  with  a view  of  mak- 
ing a few  happy  citizens,  but  as  a whole;  and  by  and  by  we 
will  proceed  to  view  the  opposite  kind  of  State.  Suppose  that 
we  were  painting  a statue,  and  someone  came  up  to  us  and 
said:  Why  do  you  not  put  the  most  beautiful  colors  on  the 
most  beautiful  parts  of  the  body — the  eyes  ought  to  be  pur- 
ple, but  you  have  made  them  black — to  him  we  might  fairly 
answer:  Sir,  you  would  not  surely  have  us  beautify  the  eyes 
to  such  a degree  that  they  are  no  longer  eyes ; consider  rather 
whether,  by  giving  this  and  the  other  features  their  due  pro- 
portion, we  make  the  whole  beautiful.  And  so  I say  to  you, 
do  not  compel  us  to  assign  to  the  guardians  a sort  of  happi- 
ness which  will  make  them  anything  but  guardians;  for  we 
too  can  clothe  our  husbandmen  in  royal  apparel,  and  set 
crowns  of  gold  on  their  heads,  and  bid  them  till  the  ground 
as  much  as  they  like,  and  no  more.  Our  potters  also  might 
be  allowed  to  repose  on  couches,  and  feast  by  the  fireside, 
passing  round  the  wine-cup,  while  their  wheel  is  conveniently 
at  hand,  and  working  at  pottery  only  as  much  as  they  like; 
in  this  way  we  might  make  every  class  happy — and  then,  as 
you  imagine,  the  whole  State  would  be  happy.  But  do  not 
put  this  idea  into  our  heads;  for,  if  we  listen  to  you,  the 
husbandman  will  be  no  longer  a husbandman,  the  potter  will 
cease  to  be  a potter,  and  no  one  will  have  the  character  of 
any  distinct  class  in  the  State.  Now  this  is  not  of  much  con- 
sequence where  the  corruption  of  society,  and  pretension  to 
be  what  you  are  not,  are  confined  to  cobblers;  but  when  the 
guardians  of  the  laws  and  of  the  government  are  only  seem- 
ing and  not  real  guardians,  then  see  how  they  turn  the  State 
upside  down ; and  on  the  other  hand  they  alone  have  the 
power  of  giving  order  and  happiness  to  the  State.  We  mean 
our  guardians  to  be  true  saviours  and  not  the  destroyers  of  the 
State,  whereas  our  opponent  is  thinking  of  peasants  at  a fes- 


THE  REPUBLIC 


107 


ti^ral-who  are  enjoying  a life  of  revelry,  not  of  citizens  who 
are  doing  their  duty  to  the  State.  But,  if  so,  we  mean  differ- 
ent things,  and  he  is  speaking  of  something  which  is  not  a 
State.  And  therefore  we  must  consider  whether  in  appoint- 
ing our  guardians  we  would  look  to  their  greatest  happiness 
individually,  or  whether  this  principle  of  happiness  does  not 
rather  reside  in  the  State  as  a whole.  But  if  the  latter  be 
the  truth,  then  the  guardians  and  auxiliaries,  and  all  others 
equally  with  them,  must  be  compelled  or  induced  to  do  their 
own  work  in  the  best  way.  And  thus  the  whole  State  will 
grow  up  in  a noble  order,  and  the  several  classes  will  receive 
the  proportion  of  happiness  which  nature  assigns  to  them, 
i think  that  you  are  quite  right. 

I wonder  whether  you  will  agree  with  another  remark  which 
occurs  to  me. 

What  may  that  be?  .... 

There  seem  to  be  two  causes  of  the  deterioration  of  the  arts. 

What  are  they? 

Wealth,  I said,  and  poverty. 

How  do  they  act  ? 

The  process  is  as  follows;  When  a potter  becomes  rich, 
will  he,  think  you,  any  longer  take  the  same  pains  with  his  art  ? 
Certainly  not. 

He  will  grow  more  and  more  indolent  and  careless . 

Very  true. 

And  the  result  will  be  that  he  becomes  a worse  potter? 
Yes;  he  greatly  deteriorates. 

But,  on  the  other  hand,  if  he  has  no  money,  and  cannot 
provide  himself  wth  tools  or  instruments,  he  will  not  work 
equally  well  himself,  nor  will  he  teach  his  sons  or  apprentices 
to  work  equally  well. 

Certainly  not. 

Then,  under  the  influence  either  of  poverty  or  of  wealth, 
.workmen  and  their  work  are  equally  liable  to  degenerate? 
That  is  evident. 

Here,  then,  is  a discovery  of  new  evils,  I said,  against  which 
the  guardians  will  have  to  watch,  or  they  will  creep  into  the 
city  unobserved. 

What  evils? 

Wealth,  I said,  and  poverty ; the  one  is  the  parent  of  lux- 


io8 


PLATO 


v 


ury  and  indolence,  and  the  other  of  meanness  and  viciouBOCflS, 
and  both  of  discontent. 

That  is  very  true,  he  replied;  but  still  I should  like  to" 
know,  Socrates,  how  our  city  will  be  able  to  go  to  war,  espe- 
cially against  an  enemy  who  is  rich  and  powerful,  if  deprived 
of  the  sinews  of  war. 

There  would  certainly  be  a difficulty,  I replied,  in  going  to 
war  with  one  such  enemy;  but  there  is  no  difficulty  where 
there  are  two  of  them. 

How  so?  he  asked. 

In  the  first  place,  I said,  if  we  have  to  fight,  our  side  will 
be  trained  warriors  fighting  against  an  army  of  rich  men. 

That  is  true^  he  said. 

And  do  you  not  suppose,  Adeimantus,  that  a single  boxer 
who  was  perfect  in  his  art  would  easily  be  a match  for  two 
stout  and  well-to-do  gentlemen  who  were  not  boxers? 

Hardly,  if  they  came  upon  him  at  once. 

What,  not,  I said,  if  he  were  able  to  run  away  and  4:heii 
turn  and  strike  at  the  one  who  first  came  up?  And  suppos- 
ing he  were  to  do  this  several  times  under  the  heat  of  a scorch- 
ing sun,  might  he  not,  being  an  expert,  overturn  moref  than 
one  stout  personage? 

Certainly,  he  said,  there  would  be  nothing  wonderful  in 
that. 

And  yet  rich  men  probably  have  a greater  superiority  in 
the  science  and  practise  of  boxing  than  they  have  in  military 
qualities. 

Likely  enough. 

Then  we  may  assume  that  our  athletes  will  be  able  to  fight 
with  two  or  three  times  their  own  number? 

I agree  with  you,  for  I think  you  right. 

And  suppose  that,  before  engaging,  our  citizens  send  an 
embassy  to*one  of  the  two  cities,  telling  them  what  is  the  truth: 
Silver  and  gold  we  neither  have  nor  are  permitted  to  have, 
but  you  may ; do  you  therefore  come  and  help  us  in  war,  and 
take  the  spoils  of  the  other  city : Who,  on  hearing  these  words, 
would  choose  to  fight  against  lean  wiry  dogs,  rather  than,  with 
the  dogs  on  their  side,  against  fat  and  tender  sheep? 

That  is  not  likely;  and  yet  there  might  be  a danger  to  the 
poor  State  if  the  wealth  of  many  States  were  to  be  gathered 
into  one. 


THE  REPUBLIC 


109 

But  how  simple  of  you  to  use  the  term  State  at  all  of  any 
but  our  own! 

Why  so? 

You  ought  to  speak  of  other  States  in  the  plural  number; 
-notioiiie  of  them  is  a city,  but  many  cities,  as  they  say  in  the 
^-Igame,  For  indeed  any  city,  however  small,  is  in  fact  divided 
into  two, one  the  city  of  the  poor,  the  other  of  the  rich;  these 
a?S'  at  war  with  one  another ; and  in  either  there  are  many 
smaller  divisions,  and  you  would  be  altogether  beside  the  mark 
if  you  treated  them  all  as  a single  State.  But  if  you  deal  with 
them  as  many,  and  give  the  wealth  or  power  or  persons  of  the 
one  to  the  others,  you  will  always  have  a great  many  friends 
and  not  many  enemies.  And  your  State,  while  the  wise  order 
which  has  now  been  prescribed  continues  to  prevail  in  her,  will 
be  the  greatest  of  States,  I do  not  mean  to  say  in  reputation 
or  appearance,  but  in  deed  and  truth,  though  she  number  not 
more  than  1,000  defenders.  A single  State  which  is  her  equal 
you  will  hardly  find,  either  among  Hellenes  or  barbarians, 
though  many  that  appear  to  be  as  great  and  many  times  greater. 

That  is  most  true,  he  said. 

And  what,  I said,  will  be  the  best  limit  for  our  rulers  to  fix 
when  they  are  considering  the  size  of  the  State  and  the  amount 
of  territory  which  they  are  to  include,  and  beyond  which  they 
will  not  go? 

What  limit  would  you  propose? 

I would  allow  the  State  to  increase  so  far  as  is  consistent 
with  unity ; that,  I think,  is  the  proper  limit. 

Very  good,  he  said. 

Here  then,  I said,  is  another  order  which  will  have  to  be 
. conveyed  to  our  guardians : Let  our  city  be  accounted  neither 
large  nor  small,  but  one  and  self-sufficing. 

And  surely,  said  he,  this  is  not  a very  severe  order  which 
we  impose  upon  them. 

And  the  other,  said  I,  of  which  we  were  speaking  before  is 
lighter  still — I mean  the  duty  of  degrading  the  offspring  of 
the  guardians  when  inferior,  and  of  elevating  into  the  rank  of 
guardians  the  offspring  of  the  lower  classes,  when  naturally 
" superior.  The  intention  was,  that,  in  the  case  of  the  citizens 
generally,  each  individual  should  be  put  to  the  use  for  which 
nature  intended  him,  one  to  one  work,  and  then  every  man 


no 


PLATO 


would  do  his  own  business,  and  be  one  and  not  many;  and 
so  the  whole  city  would  be  one  and  not  many. 

Yes,  he  said;  that  is  not  so  difficult. 

The  regulations  which  we  are  prescribing,  my  good  Adei- 
mantus,  are  not,  as  might  be  supposed,  a number  of  great  prin- 
ciples, but  trifles  all,  if  care  be  taken,  as  the  saying  is,  of  the 
one  great  thing — a thing,  however,  which  I would  rather  call, 
not,  great,  but  sufficient  for  our  purpose. 

What  may  that  be?  he  asked. 

Education,  I said,  and  nurture : If  our  citizens  are  well  edu- 
cated, and  grow  into  sensible  men,  they  will  easily  see  their 
way  through  all  these,  as  well  as  other  matters  which  I omit; 
such,  for  example,  as  marriage,  the  possession  of  women  and 
the  procreation  of  children,  which  will  all  follow  the  general 
principle  that  friends  have  all  things  in  common,  as  the  proverb 
says. 

That  will  be  the  best  way  of  settling  them. 

Also,  I said,  the  State,  if  once  started  well,  moves  with  ac- 
cumulating force  like  a wheel.  For  good  nurture  and  educa- 
tion implant  good  constitutions,  and  these  good  constitutions 
taking  root  in  a good  education  improve  more  and  more,  and 
this  improvement  affects  the  breed  in  man  as  in  other  animals. 

Very  possibly,  he  said. 

Then  to  sum  up : This  is  the  point  to  which,  above  all,  the 
attention  of  our  rulers  should  be  directed — that  music  and 
gymnastics  be  preserved  in  their  original  form,  and  no  innova- 
tion made.  They  must  do  their  utmost  to  maintain  them  in- 
tact. And  when  anyone  says  that  mankind  most  regard 

“ The  newest  song  which  the  singers  have,”  i 

they  will  be  afraid  that  he  may  be  praising,  not  new  songs, 
but  a new  kind  of  song;  and  this  ought  not  to  be  praised,  or 
conceived  to  be  the  meaning  of  the  poet ; for  any  musical  inno- 
vation is  full  of  danger  to  the  whole  State,  and  ought  to  be 
prohibited.  So  Damon  tells  me,  and  I can  quite  believe  him ; 
he  says  that  when  modes  of  music  change,  the  fundamental 
laws  of  the  State  always  change  with  them. 

Yes,  said  Adeimantus;  and  you  may  add  my  suffrage  to 
Damon’s  and  your  own. 

Odyssey,”  i.  35a. 


THE  REPUBLIC 


111 


Then,  I said,  our  guardians  must  lay  the  foundations  of  their 
fortress  in  music? 

Yes,  he  said;  the  lawlessness  of  which  you  speak  too  easily 
steals  in. 

Yes,  I replied,  in  the  form  of  amusement;  and  at  first 
sight  it  appears  harmless. 

Why,  yes,  he  said,  and  there  is  no  harm;  were  it  not  that 
little  by  little  this  spirit  of  license,  finding  a home,  impercep- 
tibly penetrates  into  manners  and  customs;  whence,  issuing 
with  greater  force,  it  invades  contracts  between  man  and  man, 
and  from  contracts  goes  on  to  laws  and  constitutions,  in  utter 
recklessness,  ending  at  last,  Socrates,  by  an  overthrow  of  all 
rights,  private  as  well  as  public. 

Is  that  true?  I said. 

That  is  my  belief,  he  replied. 

Then,  as  I was  saying,  our  youth  should  be  trained  from 
the  first  in  a stricter  system,  for  if  amusements  become  law- 
less, and  the  youths  themselves  become  lawless,  they  can  never 
grow  up  into  well-conducted  and  virtuous  citizens. 

Very  true,  he  said. 

And  when  they  have  made  a good  beginning  in  play,  and 
by  the  help  of  music  have  gained  the  habit  of  good  order, 
then  this  habit  of  order,  in  a manner  how  unlike  the  lawless 
play  of  the  others!  will  accompany  them  in  all  their  actions 
and  be  a principle  of  growth  to  them,  and  if  there  be  any 
fallen  places  in  the  State  will  raise  them  up  again. 

Very  true,  he  said. 

Thus  educated,  they  will  invent  for  themselves  any  lesser 
rules  which  their  predecessors  have  altogether  neglected. 

What  do  you  mean? 

I mean  such  things  as  these: — when  the  young  are  to  be 
silent  before  their  elders;  how  they  are  to  show  respect  to 
them  by  standing  and  making  them  sit;  what  honor  is  due 
to  parents ; what  garments  or  shoes  are  to  be  worn ; the  mode 
of  dressing  the  hair;  deportment  and  manners  in  general. 
You  would  agree  with  me? 

Yes. 

But  there  is,  I think,  small  wisdom  in  legislating  about  such 
matters — I doubt  if  it  is  ever  done ; nor  are  any  precise  writ- 
ten enactments  about  them  likely  to  be  lasting. 


1X2 


PLATO 


Impossible. 

It  would  seem,  Adeimantus,  that  the  direction  in  which  edu- 
cation starts  a man,  will  determine  his  future  life.  Does  not 
like  always  attract  like? 

To  be  sure. 

Until  some  one  rare  and  grand  result  is  reached  which  may 
be  good,  and  may  be  the  reverse  of  good? 

That  is  not  to  be  denied. 

And  for  this  reason,  I said,  I shall  not  attempt  to  legis- 
late further  about  them. 

Naturally  enough,  he  replied. 

Well,  and  about  the  business  of  the  agora,  and  the  ordi- 
nary dealings  between  man  and  man,  or  again  about  agree- 
ments with  artisans;  about  insult  and  injury,  or  the  com- 
mencement of  actions,  and  the  appointment  of  juries,  what 
would  you  say?  there  may  also  arise  questions  about  any  im- 
positions and  exactions  of  market  and  harbor  dues  which  may 
be  required,  and  in  general  about  the  regulations  of  markets, 
police,  harbors,  and  the  like..  But,  O heavens!  shall  we  con- 
descend to  legislate  on  any  of  these  particulars? 

I think,  he  said,  that  there  is  no  need  to  impose  laws  about 
them  on  good  men;  what  regulations  are  necessary  they  will 
find  out  soon  enough  for  themselves. 

Yes,  I said,  my  friend,  if  God  will  only  preserve  to  them 
the  laws  which  we  have  given  them. 

And  without  divine  help,  said  Adeimantus,  they  will  go  on 
forever  making  and  mending  the  laws  and  their  lives  in  the 
hope  of  attaining  perfection. 

You  would  compare  them,  I said,  to  those  invalids  who, 
having  no  self-restraint,  will  not  leave  off  their  habits  of  in- 
temperance ? 

Exactly. 

Yes,  I said;  and  what  a delightful  life  they  lead!  they 
are  always  doctoring  and  increasing  and  complicating  their 
disorders,  and  always  fancying  that  they  will  be  cured  by  any 
nostrum  which  anybody  advises  them  to  try. 

Such  cases  are  very  common,  he  said,  with  invalids  of  this 
sort. 

Yes,  I replied;  and  the  charming  thing  is  that  they  deem 
him  their  worst  enemy  who  tells  them  the  truth,  which  is 


THE  REPUBLIC 


113 


simply  that,  unless  they  give  up  eating  and  drinking  and 
wenching  and  idling,  nether  drug  nor  cautery  nor  spell  nor 
amulet  nor  any  other  remedy  will  avail. 

Charming!  he  replied.  I see  nothing  in  going  into  a pas- 
sion with  a man  who  tells  you  what  is  right. 

These  gentlemen,  I said,  do  not  seem  to  be  in  your  good 
graces. 

Assuredly  not. 

Nor  would  you  praise  the  behavior  of  States  which  act  like 
the  men  whom  I was  just  now  describing.  For  are  there  not 
ill-ordered  States  in  which  the  citizens  are  forbidden  under 
pain  of  death  to  alter  the  constitution;  and  yet  he  who  most 
sweetly  courts  those  who  live  under  this  regime  and  indulges 
them  and  fawns  upon  them  and  is  skilful  in  anticipating  and 
gratifying  their  humor§  is  held  to  be  a great  and  good  states- 
man— do  not  these  States  resemble  the  persons  whom  I was 
describing  ? 

Yes,  he  said;  the  States  are  as  bad  as  the  men;  and  I am 
very  far  from  praising  them. 

But  do  you  not  admire,  I said,  the  coolness  and  dexterity 
of  these  ready  ministers  of  political  corruption? 

Yes,  he  said,  I do;  but  not  of  all  of  them,  for  there  are 
some  whom  the  applause  of  the  multitude  has  deluded  into 
the  belief  that  they  are  really  statesmen,  and  these  are  not 
much  to  be  admired. 

What  do  you  mean  ? I said ; you  should  have  more  feeling 
for  them.  When  a man  cannot  measure,  and  a great  many 
others  who  cannot  measure  declare  that  he  is  four  cubits  high, 
can  he  help  believing  what  they  say? 

Nay,  he  said,  certainly  not  in  that  case. 

Well,  then,  do  not  be  angry  with  them;  for  are  they  not 
as  good  as  a play,  trying  their  hand  at  paltry  reforms  such 
as  I was  describing ; they  are  always  fancying  that  by  legisla- 
tion they  will  make  an  end  of  frauds  in  contracts,  and  the 
other  rascalities  which  I was  mentioning,  not  knowing  that 
they  are  in  reality  cutting  off  the  heads  of  a hydra? 

Yes,  he  said;  that  is  just  what  they  are  doing. 

I conceive,  I said,  that  the  true  legislator  will  not  trouble 
himself  with  this  class  of  enactments  whether  concerning  laws 
or  the  constitution  either  in  an  ill  - ordered  or  in  a well- 


PLATO 


114 

ordered  State ; for  in  the  former  they  are  quite  useless,  and  in 
the  latter  there  will  be  no  difficulty  in  devising  them;  and 
many  of  them  will  naturally  flow  out  of  our  previous  regu- 
lations. 

What,  then,  he  said,  is  still  remaining  to  us  of  the  work 
of  legislation? 

Nothing  to  us,  I replied ; but  to  Apollo,  the  god  of  Delphi, 
there  remains  the  ordering  of  the  greatest  and  noblest  and 
chiefest  things  of  all. 

Which  are  they?  he  said. 

The  institution  of  temples  and  sacrifices,  and  the  entire  ser- 
vice of  gods,  demigods,  and  heroes;  also  the  ordering  of  the 
repositories  of  the  dead,  and  the  rites  which  have  to  be  ob- 
served by  him  who  would  propitiate  the  inhabitants  of  the 
world  below.  These  are  matters  of  which  we  are  ignorant 
ourselves,  and  as  founders  of  a city  we  should  be  unwise  in 
trusting  them  to  any  interpreter  but  our  ancestral  deity.  He 
is  the  god  who  sits  in  the  centre,  on  the  navel  of  the  earth, 
and  he  is  the  interpreter  of  religion  to  all  mankind. 

You  are  right,  and  we  will  do  as  you  propose. 

But  where,  amid  all  this,  is  justice?  Son  of  Ariston,  tell 
me  where.  Now  that  our  city  has  been  made  habitable,  light 
a candle  and  search,  and  get  your  brother  and  Polemarchus 
and  the  rest  of  our  friends  to  help,  and  let  us  see  where  in 
it  we  can  discover  justice  and  where  injustice,  and  in  what 
they  dififer  from  one  another,  and  which  of  them  the  man 
who  would  be  happy  should  have  for  his  portion^  whether  seen 
or  unseen  by  gods  and  men. 

Nonsense,  said  Glaucon:  did  you  not  promise  to  search 
yourself,  saying  that  for  you  not  to  help  justice  in  her  need 
would  be  an  impiety? 

I do  not  deny  that  I said  so ; and  as  you  remind  me,  I will 
be  as  good  as  my  word;  but  you  must  join. 

We  will,  he  replied. 

Well,  then,  I hope  to  make  the  discovery  in  this  way:  I 
mean  to  begin  with  the  assumption  that  our  State,  if  rightly 
ordered,  is  perfect. 

That  is  most  certain. 

And  being  perfect,  is  therefore  wise  and  valiant  and  tern* 
perate  and  just. 


THE  REPUBLIC 


1*5 

That  is  likewise  clear. 

And  whichever  of  these  qualities  we  find  in  the  State,  the 
one  which  is  not  found  will  be  the  residue? 

Very  good. 

If  there  were  four  things,  and  we  were  searching  for  one 
of  them,  wherever  it  might  be,  the  one  sought  for  might  be 
known  to  us  from  the  first,  and  there  would  be  no  further 
trouble ; or  we  might  know  the  other  three  first,  and  then  the 
fourth  would  clearly  be  the  one  left. 

Very  true,  he  said. 

And  is  not  a similar  method  to  be  pursued  about  the  virtues, 
which  are  also  four  in  number? 

Clearly. 

First  among  the  virtues  found  in  the  State,  wisdom  comes 
into  view,  and  in  this  I detect  a certain  peculiarity. 

What  is  that? 

The  State  which  we  have  been  describing  is  said  to  be  wise 
as  being  good  in  counsel? 

Very  true. 

And  good  counsel  is  clearly  a kind  of  knowledge,  for  not 
by  ignorance,  but  by  knowledge,  do  men  counsel  well? 

Clearly. 

And  the  kinds  of  knowledge  in  a State  are  many  and 
diverse  ? 

Of  course. 

There  is  the  knowledge  of  the  carpenter;  but  is  that  the 
sort  of  knowledge  which  gives  a city  the  title  of  wise  and 
good  in  counsel? 

Certainly  not;  that  would  only  give  a city  the  reputation 
of  skill  in  carpentering. 

Then  a city  is  not  to  be  called  wise  because  possessing  a 
knowledge  which  counsels  for  the  best  about  wooden  imple- 
ments ? 

Certainly  not. 

Nor  by  reason  of  a knowledge  which  advises  about  brazen 
pots,  he  said,  nor  as  possessing  any  other  similar  knowledge? 

Not  by  reason  of  any  of  them,  he  said. 

Nor  yet  by  reason  of  a knowledge  which  cultivates  the 
earth ; that  would  give  the  city  the  name  of  agricultural  ? 

Yes. 


Ii6 


PLATO 


Well,  I said,  and  is  there  any  knowledge  in  our  recently 
founded  State  among  any  of  the  citizens  which  advises,  not 
about  any  particular  thing  in  the  State,  but  about  the  whole, 
and  considers  how  a State  can  best  deal  with  itself  and  with 
other  States? 

There  certainly  is. 

And  what  is  this  knowledge,  and  among  whom  is  it  found? 
I asked. 

It  is  the  knowledge  of  the  guardians,  he  replied,  and  is 
found  among  those  whom  we  were  just  now  describing  as 
perfect  guardians. 

And  what  is  the  name  which  the  city  derives  from  the  pos- 
session of  this  sort  of  knowledge? 

The  name  of  good  in  counsel  and  truly  wise. 

And  will  there  be  in  our  city  more  of  these  true  guardians 
or  more  smiths? 

The  smiths,  he  replied,  will  be  far  more  numerous. 

Will  not  the  guardians  be  the  smallest  of  all  the  classes 
who  receive  a name  from  the  profession  of  some  kind  of 
knowledge  ? 

Much  the  smallest.  ^ 

And  so  by  reason  of  the  smallest  part  or  class,  and  of  the 
knowledge  which  resides  in  this  presiding  and  ruling  part  of 
itself,  the  whole  State,  being  thus  constituted  according  to 
nature,  will  be  wise;  and  this,  which  has  the  only  knowledge 
worthy  to  be  called  wisdom,  has  been  ordained  by  nature  to 
be  of  all  classes  the  least. 

Most  true. 

Thus,  then,  I said,  the  nature  and  place  in  the  State  of  one 
of  the  four  virtues  have  somehow  or  other  been  discovered. 

And,  in  my  humble  opinion,  very  satisfactorily  discovered, 
he  replied. 

Again,  I said,  there  is  no  difficulty  in  seeing  the  nature  of 
courage,  and  in  what  part  that  quality  resides  which  gives  the 
name  of  courageous  to  the  State. 

How  do  you  mean? 

Why,  I said,  everyone  who  calls  any  State  courageous  or 
cowardly,  will  be  thinking  of  the  part  which  fights  and  goes 
out  to  war  on  the  State’s  behalf. 

No  one,  he  replied,  would  ever  think  of  any  other. 


THE  REPUBLIC 


117 


The  rest  of  the  citizens  may  be  courageous  or  may  be 
cowardly,  but  their  courage  or  cowardice  will  not,  as  I con- 
ceive, have  the  effect  of  making  the  city  either  the  one  or  the 
other. 

Certainly  not. 

The  city  will  be  courageous  in  virtue  of  a portion  of  her- 
self which  preserves  under  all  circumstances  that  opinion  about 
the  nature  of  things  to  be  feared  and  not  to  be  feared  in  which 
our  legislator  educated  them;  and  this  is  what  you  term 
courage. 

I should  like  to  hear  what  you  are  saying  once  more,  for 
I do  not  think  that  I perfectly  understand  you. 

I mean  that  courage  is  a kind  of  salvation. 

Salvation  of  what? 

Of  the  opinion  respecting  things  to  be  feared,  what  they 
are  and  of  what  nature,  which  the  law  implants  through  edu- 
cation ; and  I mean  by  the  words  ‘‘  under  all  circumstances 
to  intimate  that  in  pleasure  or  in  pain,  or  under  the  influence 
of  desire  or  fear,  a man  preserves,  and  does  not  lose  this 
opinion.  Shall  I give  you  an  illustration? 

If  you  please. 

You  know,  I said,  that  dyers,  when  they  want  to  dye  wool 
for  making  the  true  sea-purple,  begin  by  selecting  their  white 
color  first;  this  they  prepare  and  dress  with  much  care  and 
pains,  in  order  that  the  white  ground  may  take  the  purple  hue 
in  full  perfection.  The  dyeing  then  proceeds;  and  whatever 
is  dyed  in  this  manner  becomes  a fast  color,  and  no  washing 
either  with  lyes  or  without  them  can  take  away  the  bloom. 
But,  when  the  ground  has  not  been  duly  prepared,  you  will 
have  noticed  how  poor  is  the  look  either  of  purple  or  of  any 
other  color. 

Yes.  he  said ; I know  that  they  have  a washed-out  and 
ridiculous  appearance.  ^ 

Then  now,  I said,  you  will  understand  what  our  object  was 
in  selecting  our  soldiers,  and  educating  them  in  music  and 
gymnastics;  we  were  contriving  influences  which  would  pre- 
pare them  to  take  the  dye  of  the  laws  in  perfection,  and  the 
color  of  their  opinion  about  dangers  and  of  every  other  opin- 
ion was  to  be  indelibly  fixed  by  their  nurture  and  training, 
not  to  be  washed  away  by  such  potent  lyes  as  pleasure — 


PLATO 


Ji8 

mightier  agent  far  in  washing  the  soul  than  any  soda  or  lye; 
or  by  sorrow,  fear,  and  desire,  the  mightie^^t  of  all  other  sol- 
vents. And  this  sort  of  universal  saving  power  cf  true  opin- 
ion in  conformity  with  law  about  real  and  false  dangers  I call 
and  maintain  to  be  courage,  unless  3^ou  disagree. 

But  I agree,  he  replied;  for  I suppose  that  you  mean  to 
exclude  mere  uninstructed  courage,  such  as  that  of  a wild  beast 
or  of  a slave — this,  in  your  opinion,  is  not  the  courage  which 
the  law  ordains,  and  ought  to  have  another  name. 

Most  certainly. 

Then  I may  infer  courage  to  be  such  as  you  describe? 

Why,  yes,  said  I,  you  may,  and  if  you  add  the  words  of 
a citizen,'’  you  will  not  be  far  wrong — hereafter,  if  you  like, 
we  will  carry  the  examination  further,  but  at  present  we  are 
seeking,  not  for  courage,  but  justice;  and  for  the  purpose  of 
our  inquiry  we  have  said  enough. 

You  are  right,  he  replied. 

Two  virtues  remain  to  be  discovered  in  the  State — ^first, 
temperance,  and  then  justice,  which  is  the  end  of  our  search. 

Very  true. 

Now,  can  we  find  justice  without  troubling  ourselves  about 
temperance  ? 

I do  not  know  how  that  can  be  accomplished,  he  said,  nor 
do  I desire  that  justice  should  be  brought  to  light  and  temper- 
ance lost  sight  of;  and  therefore  I wish  that  you  would  do 
me  the  favor  of  considering  temperance  first. 

Certainly,  I replied,  I should  not  be  justified  in  refusing 
your  request. 

Then  consider,  he  said. 

Yes,  I replied;  I will;  and  as  far  as  I can  at  present  see, 
the  virtue  of  temperance  has  more  of  the  nature  of  harmony 
and  symphony  than  the  preceding. 

How  so?  he  asked. 

Temperance,  I replied,  is  the  ordering  or  controlling  of  cer- 
tain pleasures  and  desires;  this  is  curiously  enough  implied 
in  the  saying  of  a man  being  his  own  master ; " and  other 
traces  of  the  same  notion  may  be  found  in  language. 

No  doubt,  he  said. 

There  is  something  ridiculous  in  the  expression  “ master  of 
himself ; " for  the  master  is  also  the  servant  and  the  servant 


THE  REPUBLIC 


119 


the  master;  and  in  all  these  modes  of  speaking  the  same  per- 
son is  denoted. 

Certainly. 

The  meaning  is,  I believe,  that  in  the  human  soul  there  is 
a better  and  also  a worse  principle ; and  when  the  better  has 
the  worse  under  control,  then  a man  is  said  to  be  master  of 
himself ; and  this  is  a term  of  praise : but  when,  owing  to  evil 
education  or  association,  the  better  principle,  which  is  also 
the  smaller,  is  overwhelmed  by  the  greater  mass  of  the  worse 
— in  this  case  he  is  blamed  and  is  called  the  slave  of  self  and 
unprincipled. 

Yes,  there  is  reason  in  that. 

And  now,  I said,  look  at  our  newly  created  State,  and  there 
you  will  find  one  of  these  two  conditions  realized;  for  the 
State,  as  you  will  acknowledge,  may  be  justly  called  master 
of  itself,  if  the  words  ''  temperance  and  self-mastery  ’’  truly 
express  the  rule  of  the  better  part  over  the  worse. 

" Yes,  he  said,  I see  that  what  you  say  is  true. 

Let  me  further  note  that  the  manifold  and  complex  pleas- 
ures and  desires  and  pains  are  generally  found  in  children 
and  women  and  servants,  and  in  the  freemen  so  called  who 
are  of  the  lowest  and  more  numerous  class. 

Certainly,  he  said. 

Whereas  the  simple  and  moderate  desires  which  follow  rea- 
son, and  are  under  the  guidance  of  mind  and  true  opinion, 
ire  to  be  found  only  in  a few,  and  those  the  best  born  and 
^est  educated. 
j Very  true. 

I These  two,  as  you  may  perceive,  have  a place  in  our  State; 
/and  the  meaner  desires  of  the  many  are  held  down  by  the 
i virtuous  desires  and  wisdom'  of  the  few. 

That  I perceive,  he  said. 

Then  if  there  be  any  city  which  may  be  described  as  master 
of  its  own  pleasures  and  desires,  and  master  of  itself,  ours 
may  claim  such  a designation? 

Certainly,  he  replied. 

It  may  also  be  called  temperate,  and  for  the  same  reasons? 

Yes. 

And  if  there  be  any  State  in  which  rulers  and  subjects  will 
be  agreed  as  to  the  question  who  are  to  rule,  that  again  will 
be  our  State? 


V 


120 


PLATO 


Undoubtedly. 

And  the  citizens  being  thus  agreed  among  themselves,  in 
which  class  will  temperance  be  found — in  the  rulers  or  in  the 
subjects? 

In  both,  as  I should  imagine,  he  replied. 

Do  you  observe  that  we  were  not  far  wrong  in  our  guess 
that  temperance  was  a sort  of  harmony? 

Why  so  ? 

Why,  because  temperance  is  unlike  courage  and  wisdom, 
each  of  which  resides  in  a part  only,  the  one  making  the  State 
wise  and  the  other  valiant ; not  so  temperance,  which  extends 
to  the  whole,  and  runs  through  all  the  notes  of  the  scale,  and 
produces  a harmony  of  the  weaker  and  the  stronger  and  the 
middle  class,  whether  you  suppose  them  to  be  stronger  or 
weaker  in  wisdom,  or  power,  or  numbers,  or  wealth,  or  any- 
thing else.  Most  truly  then  may  we  deem  temperance  to  be 
the  agreement  of  the  naturally  superior  and  inferior,  as  to  the 
right  to  rule  of  either,  both  in  States  and  individuals. 

I entirely  agree  with  you. 

And  so,  I said,  we  m^  consider  three  out  of  the  four  vir- 
tues to  have  been  discovered  in  our  State.  The  last  of  those 
qualities  which  make  a State  virtuous  must  be  justice,  if  we 
only  knew  what  that  was. 

The  inference  is  obvious. 

The  time  then  has  arrived,  Glaucon,  when,  like  huntsmen, 
we  should  surround  the  cover,  and  look  sharp  that  justice 
does  not  steal  away,  and  pass  out  of  sight  and  escape  us;  for 
beyond  a doubt  she  is  somewhere  in  this  country:  watch 
therefore  and  strive  to  catch  a sight  of  her,  and  if  you  see 
her  first,  let  me  know. 

Would  that  I could ! but  you  lould  regard  me  rather  as 
a follower  who  has  just  eyes  enough  to  see  what  you  show 
him — that  is  about  as  much  as  I am  good  for. 

Offer  up  a prayer  with  me  and  follow. 

I will,  but  you  must  show  me  the  way. 

Here  is  no  path,  I said,  and  the  wood  is  dark  and  perplex- 
ing; still  we  must  push  on. 

Let  us  push  on. 

Here  I saw  something : Halloo ! I said,  I begin  to  perceive 
a track,  and  I believe  that  the  quarry  will  not  escape. 


THE  REPUBLIC 


I2I 


Good  news^  he  said. 

Truly,  I said,  we  are  stupid  fellows. 

Why  so  ? 

Why,  my  good  sir,  at  the  beginning  of  our  inquiry,  ages 
ago,  there  was  Justice  tumbling  out  at  our  feet,  and  we  never 
saw  her ; nothing  could  be  more  ridiculous.  Like  people  who 
go  about  looking  for  what  they  have  in  their  hands — that  was 
the  way  with  us — we  looked  not  at  what  we  were  seeking, 
but  at  what  was  far  off  in  the  distance ; and  therefore,  I sup- 
pose, we  missed  her. 

What  do  you  mean? 

I mean  to  say  that  in  reality  for  a long  time  past  we  have 
been  talking  of  Justice,  and  have  failed  to  recognize  her. 

I grow  impatient  at  the  length  of  your  exordium. 

Well,  then,  tell  me,  I said,  whether  I am  right  or  not:  You 
remember  the  original  principle  which  we  were  always  lay- 
ing down  at  the  foundation  of  the  State,  that  one  man  should 
practise  one  thing  only,  the  thing  to  which  his  nature  was 
best  adapted;  now  justice  is  this  principle  or  a part  of  it. 

Yes,  we  often  said  that  one  man  should  do  one  thing  only. 

Further,  we  affirmed  that  Justice  was  doing  one’s  own  busi- 
ness, and  not  being  a busybody ; we  said  so  again  and  again, 
and  many  others  have  said  the  same  to  us. 

Yes,  we  said  so. 

Then  to  do  one’s  own  business  in  a certain  way  may  be 
assumed  to  be  justice.  Can  you  tell  me  whence  I derive  this 
inference  ? 

I cannot,  but  I should  like  to  be  told. 

Because  I think  that  this  is  the  only  virtue  which  remains 
in  the  State  when  the  other  virtues  of  temperance  and  cour- 
age and  wisdom  are  abstracted;  and,  that  this  is  the  ulti- 
mate cause  and  condition  of  the  existence  of  all  of  them, 
and  while  remaining  in  them  is  also  their  preservative;  and 
we  were  saying  that  if  the  three  were  discovered  by  us,  jus- 
tice would  be  the  fourth,  or  remaining  one. 

That  follows  of  necessity. 

If  we  are  asked  to  determine  which  of  these  four  qualities 
by  its  presence  contributes  most  to  the  excellence  of  the  State, 
whether  the  agreement  of  rulers  and  subjects,  or  the  preser- 
vation in  the  soldiers  of  the  opinion  which  the  law  ordains 


122 


PLATO 


about  the  true  nature  of  dangers,  or  wisdom  and  watchfulness 
in  the  rulers,  or  whether  this  other  which  I am  mentioning, 
and  which  is  found  in  children  and  women,  slave  and  freeman, 
artisan,  ruler,  subject — the  quality,  I mean,  of  everyone  doing 
his  own  work,  and  not  being  a busybody,  would  claim  the 
palm — the  question  is  not  so  easily  answered. 

Certainly,  he  replied,  there  would  be  a difficulty  in  saying 
which. 

Then  the  power  of  each  individual  in  the  State  to  do  his 
own  work  appears  to  compete  with  the  other  political  virtues, 
wisdom,  temperance,  courage. 

Yes,  he  said. 

And  the  virtue  which  enters  into  this  competition  is  justice? 

Exactly. 

Let  us  look  at  the  question  from  another  point  of  view: 
Are  not  the  rulers  in  a State  those  to  whom  you  would  in- 
trust the  office  of  determining  suits-at-law? 

Certainly. 

And  are  suits  decided  on  any  other  ground  but  that  a man 
may  neither  take  what  is  another's,  nor  be  deprived  of  what 
is  his  own? 

Yes;  that  is  their  principle. 

Which  is  a just  principle? 

Yes. 

Then  on  this  view  also  justice  will  be  admitted  to  be  the 
having  and  doing  what  is  a man's  own,  and  belongs  to  him? 

Very  true. 

Think,  now,  and  say  whether  you  agree  with  me  or  not. 
Suppose  a carpenter  to  be  doing  the  business  of  a cobbler, 
or  a cobbler  of  a carpenter;  and  suppose  them  to  exchange 
their  implements  or  their  duties,  or  the  same  person  to  be 
doing  the  work  of  both,  or  whatever  be  the  change;  do  you 
think  that  any  great  harm  would  result  to  the  State? 

Not  much. 

But  when  the  cobbler  or  any  other  man  whom  nature  de- 
signed to  be  a trader,  having  his  heart  lifted  up  by  wealth  or 
strength  or  the  number  of  his  followers,  or  any  like  advan- 
tage, attempts  to  force  his  way  into  the  class  of  warriors,  or 
a warrior  into  that  of  legislators  and  guardians,  for  which  he 
is  unfitted,  and  either  to  take  the  implements  or  the  duties  of 


THE  REPUBLIC 


*23 


the  other;  or  when  one  man  is  trader,  legislator,  and  warrior 
all  in  one,  then  I think  you  will  agree  with  me  in  saying  that 
this  interchange  and  this  meddling  of  one  with  another  is  the 
ruin  of  the  State. 

Most  true. 

Seeing,  then,  I said,  that  there  are  three  distinct  classes,  any 
meddling  of  one  with  another,  or  the  change  of  one  into  an- 
other, is  the  greatest  harm  to  the  State,  and  may  be  most 
justly  termed  evil-doing? 

Precisely. 

And  the  greatest  degree  of  evil-doing  to  one’s  own  city  would 
be  termed  by  you  injustice? 

Certainly. 

This,  then,  is  injustice;  and  on  the  other  hand  when  the 
trader,  the  auxiliary,  and  the  guardian  each  do  their  own  busi- 
ness, that  is  justice,  and  will  make  the  city  just. 

I agree  with  you. 

We  will  not,  I said,  be  over-positive  as  yet ; but  if,  on  trial, 
this  conception  of  justice  be  verified  in  the  individual  as  well 
as  in  the  State,  there  will  be  no  longer  any  room  for  doubt; 
if  it  be  not  verified,  we  must  have  a fresh  inquiry.  First  let 
us  complete  the  old  investigation,  which  we  began,  as  you  re- 
member, under  the  impression  that,  if  we  could  previously  ex- 
amine justice  on  the  larger  scale,  there  would  be  less  difficulty 
in  discerning  her  in  the  individual.  That  larger  example  ap- 
peared to  be  the  State,  and  accordingly  we  constructed  as 
good  a one  as  we  could,  knowing  well  that  in  the  good  State 
iustice  would  be  found.  Let  the  discovery  which  we  made  be 
now  applied  to  the  individual — if  they  agree,  we  shall  be  sat- 
isfied; or,  if  there  be  a difference  in  the  individual,  we  will 
come  back  to  the  State  and  have  another  trial  of  the  theory. 
The  friction  of  the  two  when  rubbed  together  may  possibly 
strike  a light  in  which  justice  will  shine  forth,  and  the  vision 
which  is  then  revealed  we  will  fix  in  our  souls. 

That  will  be  in  regular  course ; let  us  do  as  you  say. 

I proceeded  to  ask : When  two  things,  a greater  and  less,  are 
"'railed  by  the  same  name,  are  they  like  or  unlike  in  so  far  as 
they  are  called  the  same? 

Like,  he  replied. 

The  just  man  then,  if  we  regard  the  idea  of  justice  only, 
will  be  like  the  just  State? 


124 


PLATO 


He  will. 

And  a State  was  thought  by  us  to  be  just  when  the  three 
classes  in  the  State  severally  did  their  own  business ; and  also 
thought  to  be  temperate  and  valiant  and  wise  by  reason  of 
certain  other  affections  and  qualities  of  these  same  classes? 

True,  he  said. 

And  so  of  the  individual;  we  may  assume  that  he  has  the 
same  three  principles  in  his  own  soul  which  are  found  in  the 
State;  and  he  may  be  rightly  described  in  the  same  terms, 
because  he  is  affected  in  the  same  manner? 

Certainly,  he  said. 

Once  more,  then,  O my  friend,  we  have  alighted  upon  an 
easy  question — whether  the  soul  has  these  three  principles  or 
not? 

An  easy  question ! Nay,  rather,  Socrates,  the  proverb  holds 
that  hard  is  the  good. 

Very  true,  I said;  and  I do  not  think  that  the  method  which 
we  are  employing  is  at  all  adequate  to  the  accurate  solution 
of  this  question ; the  true  method  is  another  and  a longer  one. 
Still  we  may  arrive  at  a solution  not  below  the  level  of  the  - 
previous  inquiry. 

May  we  not  be  satisfied  with  that  ? he  said ; under  the  cir- 
cumstances, I am  quite  content. 

I,  too,  I replied,  shall  be  extremely  well  satisfied. 

Then  faint  not  in  pursuing  the  speculation,  he  said. 

Must  we  not  acknowledge,  I said,  that  in  each  of  us  there 
are  the  same  principles  and  habits  which  there  are  in  the  State : 
and  that  from  the  individual  they  pass  into  the  State? — hoM" 
else  can  they  come  there?  Take  the  quality  of  passion  or  spirit ; 
it  would  be  ridiculous  to  imagine  that  this  quality,  when 
found  in  States,  is  not  derived  from  the  individuals  who  are 
supposed  to  possess  it,  e,g.,  the  Thracians,  Scythians,  and  in 
general  the  Northern  nations;  and  the  same  may  be  said  of 
the  love  of  knowledge,  which  is  the  special  characteristic  of  our 
part  of  the  world,  or  of  the  love  of  money,  which  may,  with 
equal  truth,  be  attributed  to  the  Phoenicians  and  Egyptians. 

Exactly  so,  he  said. 

There  is  no  difficulty  in  understanding  this. 

None  whatever. 

But  the  question  is  not  quite  so  easy  when  we  proceed  t(l> 


THE  REPUBLIC 


125 


ask  whether  these  principles  are  three  or  one;  whether,  that 
is  to  say,  we  learn  with  one  part  of  our  nature,  are  angry  with 
another,  and  with  a third  part  desire  the  satisfaction  of  our 
natural  appetites;  or  whether  the  whole  soul  comes  into  play 
in  each  sort  of  action — to  determine  that  is  the  difficulty. 

Yes,  he  said;  there  lies  the  difficulty. 

Then  let  us  now  try  and  determine  whether  they  are  the 
same  or  different. 

How  can  we?  he  asked. 

I replied  as  follows:  The  same  thing  clearly  cannot  act  or 
be  acted  upon  in  the  same  part  or  in  relation  to  the  same  thing 
at  the  same  time,  in  contrary  ways;  and  therefore  whenever 
this  contradiction  occurs  in  things  apparently  the  same,  we 
know  that  they  are  really  not  the  same,  but  different. 

Good. 

For  example,  I said,  can  the  same  thing  be  at  rest  and  in 
motion  at  the  same  time  in  the  same  part  ? 

Impossible. 

Still,  I said,  let  us  have  a more  precise  statement  of  terms, 
lest  we  should  hereafter  fall  out  by  the  way.  Imagine  the 
case  of  a man  who  is  standing  and  also  moving  his  hands  and 
his  head,  and  suppose  a person  to  say  that  one  and  the  same 
person  is  in  motion  and  at  rest  at  the  same  moment — to  such 
a mode  of  speech  we  should  object,  and  should  rather  say  that 
one  part  of  him  is  in  motion  while  another  is  at  rest. 

Very  true. 

And  suppose  the  objector  to  refine  still  further,  and  to  draw 
the  nice  distinction  that  not  only  parts  of  tops,  but  whole  tops, 
when  they  spin  round  with  their  pegs  fixed  on  the  spot,  are 
at  rest  and  in  motion  at  the  same  time  (and  he  may  say  the 
same  of  anything  which  revolves  in  the  same  spot),  his  ob- 
jection would  not  be  admitted  by  us,  because  in  such  cases 
things  are  not  at  rest  and  in  motion  in  the  same  parts  of  them- 
selves ; we  should  rather  say  that  they  have  both  an  axis  and 
a circumference;  and  that  the  axis  stands  still,  for  there  is 
no  deviation  from  the  perpendicular;  and  that  the  circum- 
ference goes  round.  But  if,  while  revolving,  the  axis  inclines 
either  to  the  right  or  left,  forward  or  backward,  then  in  no 
point  of  view  can  they  be  at  rest. 

That  is  the  correct  mode  of  describing  them,  he  replied. 


126 


PLATO 


Then  none  of  these  objections  will  confuse  us,  or  incline 
us  to  believe  that  the  same  thing  at  the  same  time,  in  the  same 
part  or  in  relation  to  the  same  thing,  can  act  or  be  acted  upon 
in  contrary  ways. 

Certainly  not,  according  to  my  way  of  thinking. 

Yet,  I said,  that  we  may  not  be  compelled  to  examine  all 
such  objections,  and  prove  at  length  that  they  are  untrue,  let 
us  assume  their  absurdity,  and  go  forward  on  the  understand- 
ing that  hereafter,  if  this  assumption  turn  out  to  be  untrue,  all 
i the  consequences  which  follow  shall  be  withdrawn. 

Yes,  he  said,  that  will  be  the  best  way. 

Well,  I said,  would  you  not  allow  that  assent  and  dissent, 
desire  and  aversion,  attraction  and  repulsion,  are  all  of  them 
opposites,  whether  they  are  regarded  as  active  or  passive  (for 
that  makes  no  difference  in  the  fact  of  their  opposition)  ? 

Yes,  he  said,  they  are  opposites. 

Well,  I said,  and  hunger  and  thirst,  and  the  desires  in  gen- 
eral, and  again  willing  and  wishing — all  these  you  would  refer 
to  the  classes  already  mentioned.  You  would  say — would  you 
not? — that  the  soul  of  him  who  desires  is  seeking  after  the 
object  of  his  desire ; or  that  he  is  drawing  to  himself  the  thing 
which  he  wishes  to  possess:  or  again,  when  a person  wants 
anything  to  be  given  him,  his  mind,  longing  for  the  realiza- 
tion of  his  desire,  intimates  his  wish  to  have  it  by  a nod  of 
assent,  as  if  he  had  been  asked  a question? 

Very  true. 

And  what  would  you  say  of  unwillingness  and  dislike  and 
the  absence  of  desire;  should  not  these  be  referred  to  the  op- 
posite class  of  repulsion  and  rejection? 

Certainly. 

Admitting  this  to  be  true  of  desire  generally,  let  us  suppose 
a particular  class  of  desires,  and  out  of  these  we  will  select 
hunger  and  thirst,  as  they  are  termed,  which  are  the  most 
obvious  of  them? 

Let  us  take  that  class,  he  said. 

The  object  of  one  is  food,  and  of  the  other  drink? 

Yes. 

And  here  comes  the  point:  is  not  thirst  the  desire  which 
the  soul  has  of  drink,  and  of  drink  only;  not  of  drink  qualified 
by  anything  else;  for  example,  warm  or  cold,  or  much  or 


THE  REPUBLIC 


127 


little,  or,  in  a word,  drink  of  any  particular  sort:  but  if  the 
thirst  be  accompanied  by  heat,  then  the  desire  is  of  cold  drink ; 
or,  if  accompanied  by  cold,  then  of  warm  drink;  or,  if  the 
thirst  be  excessive,  then  the  drink  which  is  desired  will  be  ex- 
cessive; or,  if  not  great,  the  quantity  of  drink  will  also  be 
small:  but  thirst  pure  and  simple  will  desire  drink  pure  and 
simple,  which  is  the  natural  satisfaction  of  thirst,  as  food  is 
of  hunger  ? 

Yes,  he  said;  the  simple  desire  is,  as  you  say,  in  every  case 
of  the  simple  object,  and  the  qualified  desire  of  the  qualified 
object. 

But  here  a confusion  may  arise ; and  I should  wish  to  guard 
against  an  opponent  starting  up  and  saying  that  no  man  de- 
sires drink  only,  but  good  drink,  or  food  only,  but  good  food ; 
for  good  is  the  universal  object  of  desire,  and  thirst  being  a 
desire,  will  necessarily  be  thirst  after  good  drink;  and  the 
same  is  true  of  every  other  desire. 

Yes,  he  replied,  the  opponent  might  have  something  to  say. 

Nevertheless  I should  still  maintain,  that  of  relatives  some 
have  a quality  attached  to  either  term  of  the  relation;  others 
are  simple  and  have  their  correlatives  simple. 

I do  not  know  what  you  mean. 

Well,  you  know  of  course  that  the  greater  is  relative  to  the 
less  ? 

Certainly. 

And  the  much  greater  to  the  much  less? 

Yes. 

And  the  sometime  greater  to  the  sometime  less,  and  the 
greater  that  is  to  be  to  the  less  that  is  to  be? 

Certainly,  he  said. 

And  so  of  more  or  less,  and  of  other  correlative  terms,  such 
as  the  double  and  the  half,  or,  again,  the  heavier  and  the  lighter, 
the  swifter  and  the  slower;  and  of  hot  and  cold,  and  of  any 
other  relatives ; is  not  this  true  of  all  of  them  ? 

Yes. 

And  does  not  the  same  principle  hold  in  the  sciences?  The 
object  of  science  is  knowledge  (assuming  that  to  be  the  true 
definition),  but  the  object  of  a particular  science  is  a particu- 
lar kind  of  knowledge ; I mean,  for  example,  that  the  science 

of  house-building  is  a kind  of  knowledge  which  is  defined  and 

Classics.  Vol.  31 — 10 


PLATO 


is8 

distinguished  from  other  kinds  and  is  therefore  termed  archi- 
tecture. 

Certainly. 

Because  it  has  a particular  quality  which  no  other  has? 

Yes. 

And  it  has  this  particular  quality  because  it  has  an  object 
of  a particular  kind;  and  this  is  true  of  the  other  arts  and 
sciences  ? 

Yes. 

Now,  then,  if  I have  made  myself  clear,  you  will  under- 
stand my  original  meaning  in  what  I said  about  relatives.  My 
meaning  was,  that  if  one  term  of  a relation  is  taken  alone, 
the  other  is  taken  alone;  if  one  term  is  qualified,  the  other 
is  also  qualified.  I do  not  mean  to  say  that  relatives  may 
not  be  disparate,  or  that  the  science  of  health  is  healthy,  or 
of  disease  necessarily  diseased,  or  that  the  sciences  of  good 
and  evil  are  therefore  good  and  evil ; but  only  that,  when  the 
term  ''  science  is  no  longer  used  absolutely,  but  has  a quali- 
fied object  which  in  this  case  is  the  nature  of  health  and  dis- 
ease, it  becomes  defined,  and  is  hence  called  not  merely  sci- 
ence, but  the  science  of  medicine. 

I quite  understand,  and,  I think,  as  you  do. 

Would  you  not  say  that  thirst  is  one  of  these  essentially 
relative  terms,  having  clearly  a relation 

Yes,  thirst  is  relative  to  drink. 

And  a certain  kind  of  thirst  is  relative  to  a certain  kind  of 
drink;  but  thirst  taken  alone  is  neither  of  much  nor  little, 
nor  of  good  nor  bad,  nor  of  any  particular  kind  of  drink,  but 
of  drink  only? 

Certainly. 

Then  the  soul  of  the  thirsty  one,  in  so  far  as  he  is  thirsty, 
desires  only  drink;  for  this  he  yearns  and  tries  to  obtain  it? 

That  is  plain. 

And  if  you  suppose  something  which  pulls  a thirsty  soul 
away  from  drink,  that  must  be  different  from  the  thirsty  prin- 
ciple which  draws  him  like  a beast  to  drink;  for,  as  we  were 
saying,  the  same  thing  cannot  at  the  same  time  with  the  same 
part  of  itself  act  in  contrary  ways  about  the  same. 

Impossible. 

No  more  than  you  can  say  that  the  hands  of  the  archer 


THE  REPUBLIC 


129 


push  and  pull  the  bow  at  the  same  time,  but  what  you  say 
is  that  one  hand  pushes  and  the  other  pulls. 

Exactly  so,  he  replied. 

And  might  a man  be  thirsty,  and  yet  unwilling  to  drink? 

Yes,  he  said,  it  constantly  happens. 

And  in  such  a case  what  is  one  to  say?  Would  you  not 
say  that  there  was  something  in  the  soul  bidding  a man  to 
drink,  and  something  else  forbidding  him,  which  is  other  and 
stronger  than  the  principle  which  bids  him? 

I should  say  so. 

And  the  forbidding  principle  is  derived  from  reason,  and 
that  which  bids  and  attracts  proceeds  from  passion  and  dis- 
ease ? 

Clearly. 

Then  we  may  fairly  assume  that  they  are  two,  and  that  they 
diflfer  from  one  another;  the  one  with  which  a man  reasons, 
we  may  call  the  rational  principle  of  the  soul ; the  other,  with 
which  he  loves,  and  hungers,  and  thirsts,  and  feels  the  flutter- 
ings  of  any  other  desire,  may  be  termed  the  irrational  or  ap- 
petitive, the  ally  of  sundry  pleasures  and  satisfactions? 

Yes,  he  said,  we  may  fairly  assume  them  to  be  different. 

Then  let  us  finally  determine  that  there  are  two  principles 
existing  in  the  souL  And  what  of  passion,  or  spirit?  Is  it 
a third,  or  akin  to  one  of  the  preceding? 

I should  be  inclined  to  say — akin  to  desire. 

Well,  I said,  there  is  a story  which  I remember  to  have 
heard,  and  in  which  I put  faith.  The  story  is,  that  Leontius, 
the  son  of  Aglaion,  coming  up  one  day  from  the  Piraeus,  under 
the  north  wall  on  the  outside,  observed  some  dead  bodies 
lying  on  the  ground  at  the  place  of  execution.  He  felt  a de- 
sire to  see  them,  and  also  a dread  and  abhorrence  of  them; 
for  a time  he  struggled  and  covered  his  eyes,  but  at  length  the 
desire  got  the  better  of  him;  and  forcing  them  open,  he  ran 
up  to  the  dead  bodies,  saying.  Look,  ye  wretches,  take  your 
fill  of  the  fair  sight. 

I have  heard  the  story  myself,  he  said. 

The  moral  of  the  tale  is,  that  anger  at  times  goes  to  war 
with  desire,  as  though  they  were  two  distinct  things. 

Yes;  that  is  the  meaning,  he  said. 

And  are  there  not  many  other  cases  in  which  we  observe 


PLATO 


130 

that  when  a man’s  desires  violently  prevail  over  his  reason, 
he  reviles  himself,  and  is  angry  at  the  violence  within  him, 
and  that  in  this  struggle,  which  is  like  the  struggle  of  factions 
in  a State,  his  spirit  is  on  the  side  of  his  reason ; but  for  the 
passionate  or  spirited  element  to  take  part  with  the  desires 
when  reason  decides  that  she  should  not  be  opposed,^  is  a sort 
of  thing  which  I believe  that  you  never  observed  occurring 
in  yourself,  nor,  as  I should  imagine,  in  anyone  else? 

Certainly  not. 

Suppose  that  a man  thinks  he  has  done  a wrong  to  another, 
the  nobler  he  is,  the  less  able  is  he  to  feel  indignant  at  any 
sufifering,  such  as  hunger,  or  cold,  or  any  other  pain  which 
the  injured  person  may  inflict  upon  him — these  he  deems  to 
be  just,  and,  as  I say,  his  anger  refuses  to  be  excited  by  them. 

True,  he  said. 

But  when  he  thinks  that  he  is  the  sufferer  of  the  wrong, 
then  he  boils  and  chafes,  and  is  on  the  side  of  what  he  be- 
lieves to  be  justice;  and  because  he  suffers  hunger  or  cold 
or  other  pain  he  is  only  the  more  determined  to  persevere  and 
conquer.  His  noble  spirit  will  not  be  quelled  until  he  either 
slays  or  is  slain ; or  until  he  hears  the  voice  of  the  shepherd, 
that  is,  reason,  bidding  his  dog  bark  no  more. 

The  illustration  is  perfect,  he  replied ; and  in  our  State,  as 
we  were  saying,  the  auxiliaries  were  to  be  dogs,  and  to  hear 
the  voice  of  the  rulers,  who  are  their  shepherds. 

I perceive,  I said,  that  you  quite  understand  me;  there  is, 
however,  a further  point  which  I wish  you  to  consider. 

What  point? 

You  remember  that  passion  or  spirit  appeared  at  first  sight 
to  be  a kind  of  desire,  but  now  we  should  say  quite  the  con- 
trary; for  in  the  conflict  of  the  soul  spirit  is  arrayed  on  the 
side  of  the  rational  principle. 

Most  assuredly. 

But  a further  question  arises:  Is  passion  different  from 
reason  also,  or  only  a kind  of  reason;  in  which  latter  case, 
instead  of  three  principles  in  the  soul,  there  will  only  be  two, 
the  rational  and  the  concupiscent ; or  rather,  as  the  State  was 
composed  of  three  classes,  traders,  auxiliaries,  counsellors,  so 
may  there  not  be  in  the  individual  soul  a third  element  which 

^ Reading  /w-ij  fieiv  di/Ti7rpdTTeiv,  without  a comma  after  Sniv, 


THE  REPUBLIC 


is  passion  or  spirit,  and  when  not  corrupted  by  bad  educa- 
tion is  the  natural  auxiliary  of  reason? 

Yes,  he  said,  there  must  be  a third. 

Yes,  I replied,  if  passion,  which  has  already  been  shown 
to  be  different  from  desire,  turn  out  also  to  be  different  from 
reason. 

But  that  is  easily  proved:  We  may  observe  even  in  young 
children  that  they  are  full  of  spirit  almost  as  soon  as  they 
are  born,  whereas  some  of  them  never  seem  to  attain  to  the 
use  of  reason,  and  most  of  them  late  enough. 

Excellent,  I said,  and  you  may  see  passion  equally  in  brute 
animals,  which  is  a further  proof  of  the  truth  of  what  you  are 
saying.  And  we  may  once  more  appeal  to  the  words  of  Homer, 
which  have  been  already  quoted  by  us, 

“ He  smote  his  breast,  and  thus  rebuked  his  soul;  ” ^ 

for  in  this  verse  Homer  has  clearly  supposed  the  power  which 
reasons  about  the  better  and  worse  to  be  different  from  the 
unreasoning  anger  which  is  rebuked  by  it. 

Very  true,  he  said. 

And  so,  after  much  tossing,  we  have  reached  land,  and  are 
fairly  agreed  that  the  same  principles  which  exist  in  the  State 
exist  also  in  the  individual,  and  that  they  are  three  in  number. 

Exactly. 

Must  we  not  then  infer  that  the  individual  is  wise  in  the 
same  way,  and  in  virtue  of  the  same  quality  which  makes  the 
State  wise? 

Certainly. 

Also  that  the  same  quality  which  constitutes  courage  in  the 
State  constitutes  courage  in  the  individual,  and  that  both  the 
State  and  the  individual  bear  the  same  relation  to  all  the  other 
virtues  ? 

Assuredly. 

And  the  individual  will  be  acknowledged  by  us  to  be  just 
in  the  same  way  in  which  the  State  is  just? 

That  follows  of  course. 

We  cannot  but  remember  that  the  justice  of  the  State  con- 
sisted in  each  of  the  three  classes  doing  the  work  of  its  own 
class? 

We  are  not  very  likely  to  have  forgotten,  he  said. 

* “ Odyssey,”  xx.  17,  quoted  supra. 


132 


PLATO 


We  must  recollect  that  the  individual  in  whom  the  several 
qualities  of  his  nature  do  their  own  work  will  be  just,  and 
will  do  his  own  work? 

Yes,  he  said,  we  must  remember  that  too. 

And  ought  not  the  rational  principle,  which  is  wise,  and 
has  the  care  of  the  whole  soul,  to  rule,  and  the  passionate  or 
spirited  principle  to  be  the  subject  and  ally? 

Certainly. 

And,  as  we  were  saying,  the  united  influence  of  music  and 
gymnastics  will  bring  them  into  accord,  nerving  and  sustaining 
the  reason  with  noble  words  and  lessons,  and  moderating  and 
soothing  and  civilizing  the  wildness  of  passion  by  harmony 
and  rhythm? 

Quite  true,  he  said. 

And  these  two,  thus  nurtured  and  educated,  and  having 
learned  truly  to  know  their  own  functions,  will  rule  ^ over  the 
concupiscent,  which  in  each  of  us  is  the  largest  part  of  the 
soul  and  by  nature  most  insatiable  of  gain;  over  this  they 
will  keep  guard,*  lest,  waxing  great  and  strong  with  the  fulness 
of  bodily  pleasures,  as  they  are  termed,  the  concupiscent  soul, 
no  longer  confined  to  her  own  sphere,  should  attempt  to  en- 
slave and  rule  those  who  are  not  her  natural-born  subjects, 
and  overturn  the  whole  life  of  man? 

Very  true,  he  said. 

Both  together  will  they  not  be  the  best  defenders  of  the 
whole  soul  and  the  whole  body  against  attacks  from  without; 
the  one  counselling,  and  the  other  fighting  under  his  leader, 
and  courageously  executing  his  commands  and  counsels? 

True. 

And  he  is  to  be  deemed  courageous  whose  spirit  retains  in 
pleasure  and  in  pain  the  commands  of  reason  about  what  he 
ought  or  ought  not  to  fear? 

Right,  he  replied. 

And  him  we  call  wise  who  has  in  him  that  little  part  which 
rules,  and  which  proclaims  these  commands;  that  part  too 
being  supposed  to  have  a knowledge  of  what  is  for  the  in- 
terest of  each  of  the  three  parts  and  of  the  whole? 

^ Reading  npoararqaeTov  with  Bekker  ; or,  if  the  reading  npoaTT^arerov,  which  is  found  in 
the  MSS., be  adopted,  then  the  nominative  must  be  supplied  from  the  previous  sentence: 
"Music  and  gymnastics  will  place  in  authority  over  . . This  is  very  awkward, 

and  the  awkwardness  is  increased  by  the  necessity  of  changing  the  subject  at  in)pij<r€Tov. 


THE  REPUBLIC 


*33 


Assuredly.  J 

And  would  you  not  say  that  he  is  temperate  who  hasthcse 
same  elements  in  friendly  harmony,  in  whom  the  one  ruling 
principle  of  reason,  and  the  two  subject  ones  of  spirit  and  de- 
sire, are  equally  agreed  that  reason  ought  to  rule,  and  do  not 
rebel  ? 

Certainly,  he  said,  that  is  the  true  account  of  temperance 
whether  in  the  State  or  individual. 

And  surely,  I said,  we  have  explained  again  and  again  how 
/and  by  virtue  of  what  quality  a man  will  be  just. 

^ That  is  very  certain. 

And  is  justice  dimmer  in  the  individual,  and  is  her  form 
different,  or  is  she  the  same  which  we  found  her  to  be  in  the 
State  ? 

There  is  no  difference,  in  my  opinion,  he  said. 

Because,  if  any  doubt  is  still  lingering  in  our  minds,  a few 
commonplace  instances  will  satisfy  us  of  the  truth  of  what  I 
am  saying.  \ 

What  sort  of  instances  do  you  mean  ? 

If  the  case  is  put  to  us,  must  we  not  admit  that  the  just 
State,  or  the  man  who  is  trained  in  the  principles  of  such  a 
State,  will  be  less  likely  than  the  unjust  to  make  away  with  a 
deposit  of  gold  or  silver?  Would  anyone  deny  this? 

No  one,  he  replied. 

Will  the  just  man  or  citizen  ever  be  guilty  of  sacrilege  or 
theft,  or  treachery  either  to  his  friends  or  to  his  country  ? 

Never. 

Neither  will  he  ever  break  faith  where  there  have  been  oaths 
or  agreements. 

Impossible. 

No  one  will  be  less  likely  to  commit  adultery,  or  to  dishonor 
his  father  and  mother,  or  to  fail  in  his  religious  duties  ? 

No  one. 

And  the  reason  is  that  each  part  of  him  is  doing  its  own 
business,  whether  in  ruling  or  being  ruled  ? 

Exactly  so. 

Are  you  satisfied,  then,  that  the  quality  which  makes  such 
men  and  such  States  is  justice,  or  do  you  hope  to  discover 
some  other? 

Not  I,  indeed. 


134 


PLATO 


Then  our  dream  has  been  realized ; and  the  suspicion  which 
we  entertained  at  the  beginning  of  our  work  of  construction, 
that  some  divine  power  must  have  conducted  us  to  a primary 
form  of  justice,  has  now  been  verified? 

Yes,  certainly. 

And  the  division  of  labor  which  required  the  carpenter  and 
the  shoemaker  and  the  rest  of  the  citizens  to  be  doing  each  his 
own  business,  and  not  another’s,  was  a shadow  of  justice,  and 
for  that  reason  it  was  of  use? 

Clearly. 

But  in  reality  justice  was  such  as  we  were  describing,  being 
concerned,  however,  not  with  the  outward  man,  but  with  the 
inward,  which  is  the  true  self  and  concernment  of  man : for  the 
just  man  does  not  permit  the  several  elements  within  him  to 
interfere  with  one  another,  or  any  of  them  to  do  the  work  of 
others — he  sets  in  order  his  own  inner  life,  and  is  his  own  mas- 
j ter  and  his  own  law,  and  at  peace  with  himself;  and  when  he 
I has  bound  together  the  three  principles  within  him,  which  may 
' be  compared  to  the  higher,  lower,  and  middle  notes  of  the  scale, 
and  the  intermediate  intervals — when  he  has  bound  all  these 
together,  and  is  no  longer  many,  but  has  become  one  entirely 
temperate  and  perfectly  adjusted  nature,  then  he  proceeds  to 
act,  if  he  has  to  act,  whether  in  a matter  of  property,  or  in 
the  treatment  of  the  body,  or  in  some  affair  of  politics  or  private 
business ; always  thinking  and  calling  that  which  preserves  and 
co-operates  with  this  harmonious  condition  just  and  good 
action,  and  the  knowledge  which  presides  over  it  wisdom,  and 
that  which  at  any  time  impairs  this  condition  he  will  call  unjust 
action,  and  the  opinion  which  presides  over  it  ignorance. 

You  have  said  the  exact  truth,  Socrates. 

Very  good ; and  if  we  were  to  affirm  that  we  had  discovered 
the  just  man  and  the  just  State,  and  the  nature  of  justice  in 
each  of  them,  we  should  not  be  telling  a falsehood  ? 

Most  certainly  not. 

May  we  say  so,  then  ? 

Let  us  say  so. 

And  now,  I said,  injustice  has  to  be  considered. 

Clearly. 

Must  not  injustice  be  a strife  which  arises  among  the  three 
principles—a  meddlesomeness,  and  interference,  and  rising  up 


THE  REPUBLIC 


135 


of  a part  of  the  soul  against  the  whole,  an  assertion  of  unlaw- 
ful authority,  which  is  made  by  a rebellious  subject  against  a 
true  prince,  of  whom  he  is  the  natural  vassal — what  is  all  this 
confusion  and  delusion  but  injustice,  and  intemperance,  and 
cowardice,  and  ignorance,  and  every  form  of  vice? 

Exactly  so. 

And  if  the  nature  of  justice  and  injustice  be  known,  then 
the  meaning  of  acting  unjustly  and  being  unjust,  or,  again,  of 
acting  justly,  will  also  be  perfectly  clear? 

What  do  you  mean  ? he  said. 

Why,  I said,  they  are  like  disease  and  health ; being  in  the 
soul  just  what  disease  and  health  are  in  the  body. 

How  so?  he  said. 

Why,  I said,  that  which  is  healthy  causes  health,  and  that 
which  is  unhealthy  causes  disease. 

Yes. 

And  just  actions  cause  justice,  and  unjust  actions  cause 
injustice?  ' 

That  is  certain. 

And  the  creation  of  health  is  the  institution  of  a natural  order 
and  government  of  one  by  another  in  the  parts  of  the  body ; and 
the  creation  of  disease  is  the  production  of  a state  of  things  at 
variance  with  this  natural  order? 

True. 

And  is  not  the  creation  of  justice  the  institution  of  a natuitil 
order  and  government  of  one  by  another  in  the  parts  of  the 
soul,  and  the  creation  of  injustice  the  production  of  a state  of 
things  at  variance  with  the  natural  order  ? 

Exactly  so,  he  said. 

Then  virtue  is  the  health,  and  beauty,  and  well-being  of  the 
soul,  and  vice  the  disease,  and  weakness,  and  deformity,  of  the 
same? 

True. 

And  do  not  good  practices  lead  to  virtue,  and  evil  practices 
to  vice  ? 

/ Assuredly. 

} Still  our  old  question  of  the  comparative  advantage  of  justice 
and  injustice  has  not  been  answered : Which  is  the  more  profit- 
able, to  be  just  and  act  justly  and  practise  virtue,  whether  seen 
or  unseen  of  gods  and  men,  or  to  be  unjust  and  act  unjustly,  if 
only  unpunished  and  unreformed? 


336 


PLATO 


In  my  judgment,  Socrates,  the  question  has  now  become 
ridiculous.  We  know  that,  when  the  bodily  constitution  is 
gone,  life  is  no  longer  endurable,  though  pampered  with  all 
kinds  of  meats  and  drinks,  and  having  all  wealth  and  all  power ; 
and  shall  we  be  told  that  when  the  very  essence  of  the  vital 
principle  is  undermined  and  corrupted,  life  is  still  worth  having 
to  a man,  if  only  he  be  allowed  to  do  whatever  he  likes  with 
the  single  exception  that  he  is  not  to  acquire  justice  and  virtue, 
or  to  escape  from  injustice  and  vice;  assuming  them  both  to  be 
such  as  we  have  described  ? 

Yes,  I said,  the  question  is,  as  you  say,  ridiculous.  Still, 
as  we  are  near  the  spot  at  which  we  may  see  the  truth  in  the 
clearest  manner  with  our  own  eyes,  let  us  not  faint  by  the  way. 

Certainly  not,  he  replied. 

Come  up  hither,  I said,  and  behold  the  various  forms  of  vice, 
those  of  them,  I mean,  which  are  worth  looking  at. 

I am  following  you,  he  replied : proceed. 

I said : The  argument  seems  to  have  reached  a height  from 
which,  as  from  some  tower  of  speculation,  a man  may  look 
down  and  see  that  yktue  is  one,  but  that  the  forms  of  vice  are 
innumerable ; there  being  four  special  ones  which  are  deserving 
of  note. 

What  do  you  mean  ? he  said. 

I mean,  I replied,  that  there  appear  to  be  as  many  forms  of 
the  soul  as  there  are  distinct  forms  of  the  State. 

How  many  ? 

There  are  five  of  the  State,  and  five  of  the  soul,  I said. 

What  are  they  ? 

The  first,  I said,  is  that  which  we  have  been  describing,  and 
which  may  be  said  to  have  two  names,  monarchy  and  aristoc- 
racy, according  as  rule  is  exercised  by  one  distinguished  man 
or  by  many. 

True,  he  replied. 

But  I regard  the  two  names  as  describing  one  form  only; 
for  whether  the  government  is  in  the  hands  of  one  or  many, 
if  the  governors  have  been  trained  in  the  manner  which  we 
have  supposed,  the  fundamental  laws  of  the  State  will  be 
maintained. 

That  is  true,  he  replied. 


BOOK  V 

ON  MATRIMONY  AND  PHILOSOPHY' 


Socrates,  Glaucon,  Adeimantus. 

SUCH  IS  the  good  and  true^City  or  State,  and  the  good  and 
true  man  is  of  the  same  pa'ttern ; and  if  this  is  right  every 
other  is  wrong ; and  the  evil  is  one  which  affects  not  only 
the  ordering  of  the  State,  but  also  the  regulation  of  the  indi- 
vidual soul,  and  is  exhibited  in  four  forms. 

What  are  they  ? he  said. 

I was  proceeding  to  tell  the  order  in  which  the  four  evil 
forms  appeared  to  me  to  succeed  one  another,  when  Polemar- 
chus,  who  was  sitting  a little  way  off,  just  beyond  Adeimantus, 
began  to  whisper  to  him:  stretching  forth  his  hand,  he  took 
hold  of  the  upper  part  of  his  coat  by  the  shoulder,  and  drew 
him  toward  him,  leaning  forward  himself  so  as  to  be  quite  close 
and  saying  something  in  his  ear,  of  which  I only  caught  the 
words,  “ Shall  we  let  him  off,  or  what  shall  we  do  ? 

Certainly  not,  said., Adeimantus,  raising  his  voice. 

Who  is  it,  I said,  whom  you  are  refusing  Xv,  -- 

You,  he  said. 

I repeated,^  Why  am  I especially  not  to  be  let  off? 

Why,  he  said,  we  think  that  you  are  lazy,  and  mean  to  cheat 
us  out  of  a whole  chapter  which  is  a very  important  part  of 
the  story ; and  you  fancy  that  we  shall  not  notice  your  airy  way 
of  proceeding;  as  if  it  were  self-evident  to  everybody,  that  in 
the  matter  of  women  and  children  ‘‘  friends  have  all  things  in 
common.’’ 

And  was  I not  right,  Adeimantus? 

Yes,  he  said;  but  what  is  right  in  this  particular  case,  like 
everything  else,  requires  to  be  explained ; for  community  may 
be  of  many  kinds.  Please,  therefore,  to  say  what  sort  of  com- 

* Reading  ert  eyw  throw, 

137 


138 


PLATO 


munity  you  meaH.  We  have  been  long  expecting  that  you 
would  tcU  us  something  about  the  family  life  of  your  citizens— 
how  they  will  bK*.  g children  jnto  the  world,  and  rear  them 
when  they  have  arrived,  and,  in  general,  what  is  the  nature  of 
this  community  of  women  and  children — for  we  are  of  opinion 
that  the  right  or  wrong  management  of  such  matters  will  have 
a great  and  paramount  influence  on  t)ie  State  for  good  or  for 
evil.  And  now,  since  the  question  is  still  undetermined,  and 
you  are  taking  in  hand  another  State,  we  have  resolved,  as  you 
heard,  not  to  let  you  go  until  you  give  an  account  of  all  this. 

To  that  resolution,  said  Glaucon,  you  may  regard  me  as  say- 
ing : Agreed, 

And  without  more  ado,  said  Thrasymachus,  you  may  con- 
sider us  all  to  be  equally  agreed. 

I said.  You  know  not  what  you  are  doing  in  thus  assailing 
me : What  an  argument  are  you  raising  about  the  State ! Just 
as  I thought  that  I had  finished,  and  was  only  too  glad  that  I 
had  laid  this  question  to  sleep,  and  was  reflecting  how  fortu 
nate  I was  in  your  acceptance  of  what  I then  said,  you  ask  me 
to  begin  again  at  the  very  foundation,  ignorant  of  what  a hor- 
net’s nest  of  words  you  are  stirring.  Now  I foresaw  this  gath- 
ering trouble,  and  avoided  it. 

For  what  purpose  do  you  conceive  that  we  have  come  here, 
said  Thrasymachus — to  look  for  gold,  or  to  hear  discourse? 

Yes,  but  discourse  should  have  a limit. 

Yes,  Socrates,  said  Glaucon,  and  the  whole  of  life  is  the  only 
limit!  which  wise'meh  assign' to  the  hearing  of  such  discourses. 


But  never  mind  about  us ; take  heart  yourself  and  answer  the 
question  in  your  own  way : What  sort  of  community  of  women, 
and  children  is  this  which  is  to  prevail  among  our  guardians? 
and  how  shall  we  manage  the  period  between  birth  and  educa- 
tion, which  seems  to  require  the  greatest  care?  Tell  us  how 
these  things  will  be. 

Yes,  my  simple  friend,  but  the  answer  is  the  reverse  of  ea^; 
many  more  doubts  arise  about  this  than  about  our  previous  con- 
clusions. For  the  practicability  of  what  is  said  may  be  doubted; 
and  looked  at  in  another  point  of  view,  whether  the  scheme,  if 
ever  so  practicable,  would  be  for  the  best,  is  also  doubtful. 
Hence  I feel  a reluctance  to  approach  the  subject,  lest  our  as- 
piration, my  dear  friend,  should  turn  out  to  be  a dream  only. 


THE  REPUBLIC 


139 


Fear  not,  he  replied,  for  your  audience  will  not  be  hard  upon 
you ; they  are  not  sceptical  or  hostile. 

1 said : My  good  friend,  I suppose  that  you  mean  to  encour^ 
age  me  by  these  words. 

Yes,  he  said. 

Then  let  me  tell  you  that  you  are  doing  just  the  reverse;  the 
encouragement  which  you  offer  would  have  been  all  very  well 
had  I myself  believed  that  I knew  what  I was  talking  about. 
To  declare  the  truth  about  matters  of  high  interest  which  a man. 
honors  and  loves,  among  wise  men  who  lo’ve  him,  need  occasion 
no  fear  or  faltering  in  his  mind ; but  to  carry  on  an  argument 
when  you  are  yourself  only  a hesitating  inquirer,  which  is  my 
condition,  is  a dangerous  and  slippery  thing;  and  the  danger 
is  not  that  I shall  be  laughed  at  (of  which  the  fear  would  be 
childish),  but  that  I shall  miss  the  truth  where  I have  most 
need  to  be  sure  of  my  footing,  and  drag  my  friends  after  me 
in  my  fall.  And  I pray  Nemesis  not  to  visit  upon  me  the  words 
which  I am  going  to  utter.  For  I do  indeed  believe  that  to  be 
an  involuntary  homicide  is  a less  crime  than  to  be  a deceiver 
about  beauty,  or  goodness,  or  justice,  in  the  matter  of  laws.^ 
And  that  is  a risk  which  I would  rather  run  among  enemies 
tha^among  friends;  and  therefore  you  do  well  to  encourage 


Glaucon  laughed  and  said:  Well,  then,  Socrates,  in  case 
you  and  your  argument  do  us  any  serious  injury  you  shall  be 
acquitted  beforehand  of  the  homicide,  and  shall  not  b^'^ 
to  be  a deceiver ; take  courage  then  and  speak. 

Well,  I said,  the  law  says  that  a man  is  : 

is  free  from  guilt,  and  ^";bat  holds  at  law  may  hold  ii^ 

Then  why  should  you  mind? 

Well,  I replied,  I suppose  that  I must  retrace  my 
say  what  I perhaps  ought  to  have  said  before  in  the\-- 
place.  The  part  of  the  men  has  been  played  out,  and  now 
properly  enough  comes  the  turn  of  the  women.  Of  them  I will 
proceed  to  speak,  and  the  more  readily  since  I am  invited  by 
you, 

For  men  born  and  educated  like  our  citizens,  the  only  way, 
in  my  opinion,  of  arriving  at  a right  conclusion  about  the  pos- 


' Or  inserting  /cal  before  vofiiviav : “ a deceiver  about  beauty  or  goodness  or  principles  of 
justice  or  law,”  a Reading,  wo-re  ev  /xe  napafivOel, 


140 


PLATO 


session  and  jfisejof  women  and  children  is  to  follow  the  path 
on  which  we  originally  started,  when  we  said  that  the  men 
were  to  be  the  guardians  and  watch-dogs  of  the  herd. 

True.  ,, 

Let  us  further  suppose  the  birth  and  education  of  our  women 
to  be  subject  to  similar  or  nearly  similar  regulations;  then  we 
shall  see  whether  the  result  accords  with  our  design. 

What  do  you  mean? 

What  I mean  may  be  put  into  the  form  of  a question,  I said : 
Are  dogs  divided  into  he’s  and  she’s,  or  do  they  both  share 
equally  in  hunting  and  in  keeping  watch  and  in  the  otheF  duties 
of  dogs  ? or  do  we  intrust  to  the  males  the  entire  and  exclusivd''" 
care  of  the  flocks,  while  we  leave  the  females  at  home,  under 
the  idea  that  the  bearing  and  the  suckling  of  their  puppies  are 
labor  enough  for  them? 

No,  he  said,  they  share  alike;  the  only  difference  between 
them  is  that  the  males  are  stronger  and  the  females  weaker. 

But  can  you  use  different  animals  for  the  same  purpose^  un- 
less they  are  bred  and  fed  in  the  same  way? 

You  cannoto 

Then,  if  women  are  to  have  the  same  duties  as  men,  they 
must  have  the  same  nurture  and. education? 

Yes. 

The  education  which  was  assigned  to  the  men  was  music  and 
gymnastics. 

Yes, 

woiqjlj  must  be  taught  music  and  gymnastics  and  also 
af,  which  they  must  practise  like  the  men? 
he  inference,  I suppose. 

rather  expect,  I said,  that  several  of  our  propo^s^^ 
e carried  out,  being  unusual,  may  appear  ridiculous, 
doubt  of  it. 

fes,  and  the  most  ridiculous  thing  of  all  will  be  the  sight  — 
of  women  naked  in  the  palaestra,  exercising  with  the  men,  es- 
pecially when  they  are  no  longer  young;  they  certainly  will  not  ^ 
be  a vision  of  beauty,  any  more  than  the  enthusiastic  old  men 
who,  in  spite  of  wrinkles  and  ugliness,  continue  to  frequent^ 
the  gymnasia.  ^ 

Yes,  indeed,  he  said:  according  to  present  notions  the  pra 
posal  would  be  thought  ridiculous. 


THE  REPUBLIC 


141 


But  then,  I said,  as  we  have  determined  to  speak  our  minds, 
we  must  not  fear  the  jests  of  the  wits  which  will  be  directed 
against  this  sort  of  innovation ; how  they  will  talk  of  women's 
attainments,  both  in  music  and  gymnastics,  and  above  all  about 
their  wearing  armor  and  riding  upon  horseback ! 

Very  true,  he  replied. 

Yet,  having  begun,  we  must  go  forward  to1;he  rough  places 
of  the  law;  at  t!.e  same  time  begging  of  the^e  gentlemen  for 
once  in  their  life  to  be  serious.  Not  long  ago,  as  we  shall  re- 
mind them,  the  Hellenes  were  of  the  opinion,  which  is  still 
generally  received  among  the  barbarians,  that  the  sight  of  a 
naked  man  was  ridiculous  and  improper;  and  when  first  the 
Cretans,  and  then  the  Lacedeemonians,  introduced  the  custom, 
the  wits  of  that  day  might  equally  have  ridiculed  the  innova- 
tion. 

No  doubt. 

But  when  experience  showed  that  to  let  all  things  be  un- 
covered was  far  better  than  to  cover  them  up,  and  the  ludicrous 
effect  to  the  outward  eye  had  vanished  before  the  better  princi- 
ple which  reason  asserted,  th^  the  man  was  perceived  to  be  a 
fool  who  directs  the  shafts  oi  his  ridicule  at  any  other  sight  but 
that  of  folly  and  vice,  or  seriously  inclines  to  weigh  the  beauti- 
ful by  any  other  standard  but  that  of  the  good.^ 

Very  true,  he  replied. 

First,  then,  whether  the  question  is  to  be  put  in  jest  or  in 
earnest,  let  us  come  to  an  understanding  about  the  nature  of 
wom.an:  Is  she  capable  of  sharing  either  wht)lly  or  partially 
in  the  actions  of  men,  or  not  at  all  ? And  is  the  art  of  war  one 
of  those  arts  in  which  she  can  or  cannot  share?  That  will 
be  the  best  way  of  commencing  the  inquiry,  and  will  probably 
lead  to  the  fairest  conclusion.  ^ 

That  will  be  much  the  best  way. 

Shall  we  take  the  other  side  first  and  begin  by  arguing 
against  ourselves  ? in  this  manner  the  adversary's  position  will 
not  be  undefended. 

Why  not  ? he  said. 

Then  let  us  put  a speech  into  the  mouths  of  our  opponents. 
They  will  say : Socrates  and  Glaucon,  no  adversary  need 
convict  you,  for  you  yourselves,  at  the  first  foundation  of  the 

* Reading  with  Paris  A.  xai  Kakov  . . • 


142 


PLATO 


State,  admitted  the  principle  that  everybody  was  to  do  the  one 
work  suited  to  his  own  nature/’  And  certainly,  if  I am  not 
mistaken,  such  an  admission  was  made  by  us.  And  do  not 
the  natures  of  men  and  women  differ  very  much  indeed  ? ” 
And  we  shall  reply,  Of  course  they  do.  Then  we  shall  be 
asked,  ‘‘  Whether  the  tasks  assigned  to  men  and  to  women 
should  not  be  different,  and  such  as  are  agreeable  to  their  differ- 
ent natures  ? ” Certainly  they  should.  ‘‘  But  if  so,  have  you 
not  fallen  into  a serious  inconsistency  in  saying  that  men  and 
women,  whose  natures  are  so  entirely  different,  ought  to  per- 
form the  same  actions  ? ” What  defence  will  you  make  for  us, 
my  good  sir,  against  anyone  who  offers  these  objections? 

That  is  not  an  easy  question  to  answer  when  asked  suddenly ; 
and  I shall  and  I do  beg  of  you  to  draw  out  the  case  on  our  side. 

These  are  the  objections,  Glaucon,  and  there  are  many  others 
of  a like  kind,  which  I foresaw  long  ago ; they  made  me  afraid 
and  reluctant  to  take  in  hand  any  law  about  the  possession  and 
nurture  of  women  and  children. 

By  Zeus,  he  said,  the  problem  to  be  solved  is  anything  but 
easy. 

Why,  yes,  I said,  but  the  fact  is  that  when  a man  is  out  of 
his  depth,  whether  he  has  fallen  into  a little  swimming-bath 
or  into  mid-ocean,  he  has  to  swim  all  the  same. 

Very  true. 

And  must  not  we  swim  and  try  to  reach  the  shore — we  will 
hope  that  Arion’s  dolphin  or  some  other  miraculous  help  may 
save  us? 

I suppose  so,  he  said. 

Well,  then,  let  us  see  if  any  way  of  escape  can  be  found. 
We  acknowledged — did  we  not? — that  different  natures  ought 
to  have  different  pursuits,  and  that  men’s  and  women’s  natures 
are  different.  And  now  what  are  we  saying? — that  different 
natures  ought  to  have  the  same  pursuits— this  is  the  inconsist- 
ency which  is  charged  upon  us. 

Precisely. 

Verily,  Glaucon,  I said,  glorious  is  the  power  of  the  art  of 
contradiction ! 

Why  do  you  say  so? 

Because  I think  that  many  a man  falls  into  the  practice 
against  his  will.  When  he  thinks  that  he  is  reasoning  he  is 


THE  REPUBLIC 


143 


really  disputing,  just  because  he  cannot  define  and  divide,  and 
so  know  that  of  which  he  is  speaking;  and  he  will  pursue  a 
merely  verbal  opposition  in  the  spirit  of  contention  and  not  of 
fair  discussion. 

Yes,  he  replied,  such  is  very  often  the  case;  but  what  has 
that  to  do  with  us  and  our  argument? 

A great  deal ; for  there  is  certainly  a danger  of  our  getting 
unintentionally  into  a verbal  opposition. 

In  what  way? 

Why  we  valiantly  and  pugnaciously  insist  upon  the  verbal 
truth,  that  different  natures  ought  to  have  different  pursuits, 
but  we  never  considered  at  all  what  was  the  meaning  of  same- 
ness or  difference  of  nature,  or  why  we  distinguished  them 
when  we  assigned  different  pursuits  to  different  natures  and 
the  same  to  the  same  natures. 

Why^  no,  he  said,  that  was  never  considered  by  us. 

I said : Suppose  that  by  way  of  illustration  we  were  to  ask 
the  question  whether  there  is  not  an  opposition  in  nature  be- 
tween bald  men  and  hairy  men;  and  if  this  is  admitted  by  us, 
then,  if  bald  men  are  cobblers,  we  should  forbid  the  hairy  men 
to  be  cobblers,  and  conversely? 

That  would  be  a jest,  he  said. 

Yes,  I said,  a jest;  and  why?  because  we  never  meant  when 
we  constructed  the  State,  that  the  opposition  of  natures  should 
extend  to  every  difference,  but  only  to  those  differences  which 
affected  the  pursuit  in  which  the  individual  is  engaged ; we 
should  have  argued,  for  example,  that  a physician  and  one  who 
is  in  mind  a physician  ^ may  be  said  to  have  the  same  nature. 

True. 

Whereas  the  physician  and  the  carpenter  have  different 
natures  ? 

Certainly.  ^4- 

And  if,  I said^  the  male  and  female  sex  appear  to  differ  in 
their  fitness  for  any  art  or  pursuit,  we  should  say  that  such 
pursuit  or  art  ought  to  be  assigned  to  one  or  the  other  of  theni ; 
but  if  the  difference  consists  only  in  women  bearing  and  men 
begetting  children,  this  does  not  amount  to  a proof  that  a 
woman  differs  from  a man  in  respect  of  the  sort  of  education 
she  should  receive ; and  we  shall  therefore  continue  to  main- 

* Reading  iarpby  fikv  koX  larpiKhv  ttiv  \pvjfyv  ovra* 


144 


PLATO 


tain  that  our  guardians  and  their  wives  ought  to  have  the  same 
pursuits. 

Very  true,  he  said. 

Next,  we  shall  ask  our  opponent  how,  in  reference  to  any 
of  the  pursuits  or  arts  of  civic  life,  the  nature  of  a woman  dif- 
fers from  that  of  a man  ? 

That  will  be  quite  fair. 

And  perhaps  he,  like  yourself,  will  reply  that  to  give  a suffi- 
cient answer  on  the  instant  is  not  easy ; but  after  a little  reflec- 
tion there  is  no  difficulty. 

Yes,  perhaps. 

Suppose  then  that  we  invite  him  to  accompany  us  in  the 
argument,  and  then  we  may  hope  to  show  him  that  there  is 
nothing  peculiar  in  the  constitution  of  women  which  would 
affect  them  in  the  administration  of  the  State. 

By  all  means. 

Let  us  say  to  him : Come  now,  and  we  will  ask  you  a ques- 
tion : When  you  spoke  of  a nature  gifted  or  not  gifted  in  any 
respect,  did  you  mean  to  say  that  one  man  will  acquire  a thing 
easily,  another  with  difficulty ; a little  learning  will  lead  the  one 
to  discover  a great  deal,  whereas  the  other,  after  much  study 
and  application,  no  sooner  learns  than  he  forgets;  or  again, 
did  you  mean,  that  the  one  has  a body  which^^s  a good  servant 
to  his  mind,  while  the  body  of  the  other  is  a hinderance  to  him  ? 
— would  not  these  be  the  sort  of  differences  which  distinguish 
the  man  gifted  by  nature  from  the  one  who  is  ungifted? 

No  one  will  deny  that. 

And  can  you  mention  any  pursuit  of  mankind  in  which  the 
male  sex  has  not  all  these  gifts  and  qualities  in  a higher  degree 
than  the  female?  Need  I waste  time  in  speaking  of  the  art 
of  weaving,  and  the  management  of  pancakes  and  preserves, 
in  which  womankind  does  really  appear  to  be  great,  and  in 
which  for  her  to  be  beaten  by  a man  is  of  all  things  the  most 
absurd  ? 

y / You  -are  quite  right,  he  replied,  in  maintaining  the  general 

(^feriorit^r  of  the  female  sex : although  many  women  are  in 
^ man^fiings  superior  to  many  men,  yet\)n  the  whole  what  you 
say  is  true. 

And  if  so,  my  friend,  I said,  there  is  no  special  faculty  of 
administration  in  a State  which  a woman  has  because  she  is  a 


THE  REPUBLIC 


MS 


woman,  or  which  a man  has  by  virtue  of  his  sex,  but  the  gifts 
of  nature  are  alike  diffused  in  both ; all  the  pursuits  of  men  are 
the  pursuits  of  women  also,  but  in  all  of  them  a woman  is  in- 
ferior to  a man."^^ 

Very  true. 

Then  are  we  to  impose  all  our  enactments  on  men  and  none 
of  them  on  women? 

That  will  never  do. 

One  woman  has  a gift  of  healing,  another  not;  one  is  a 
musician,  and  another  has  no  music  in  her  nature? 

Very  true. 

And  one  woman  has  a turn  for  gymnastic  and  military  exer- 
cises, and  another  is  unwarlike  and  hates  gymnastics? 

Certainly. 

And  one  woman  is  a philosopher,  and  another  is  an  enemy 
of  philosophy ; one  has  spirit,  and  another  is  without  spirit  ? 

That  is  also  true. 

Then  one  woman  will  have  the  temper  of  a guardian,  and 
another  not.  Was  not  the  selection  of  the  male  guardians  de- 
termined by  differences  of  this  sort? 

Yes. 

Men  and  women  alike  possess  the  qualities  which  make  a 
guardian;  they  differ  only  in  their  comparative  strength  or 
weakness. 

Obviously. 

And  those  women  who  have  such  qualities  are  to  be  selected 
as  the  conipanions  and  colleagues  of  men  who  have  similar 
qualities  and  whom  they  resemble  in  capacity  and  in  character? 

Very  true. 

And  ought  not  the  same  natures  to  have  the  same  pursuits  ? 

They  ought.  ♦ 

Then,  as  we  were  saying  before,  there  is  nothing  unnatural 
in  assigning  music  and  gymnastics  to  the  wives  of  the  guar- 
dians—to  that  point  we  come  round  again. 

Certainly  not. 

The  law  which  we  then  enacted  was  agreeable  to  nature, 
and  therefore  not  an  impossibility  or  mere  aspiration ; and  the 
contrary  practice,  which  prevails  at  present,  is  in  reality  a viola- 
tion of  nature. 

That  appears  to  be  true. 

lO 


146 


PLATO 


We  had  to  consider,  first,  whether  our  proposals  were  possi- 
ble, and  secondly  whether  they  were  the  most  beneficial? 

Yes. 

And  the  possibility  has  been  acknowledged? 

Yes. 

The  very  great  benefit  has  next  to  be  established? 

Quite  so. 

You  will  admit  that  the  same  education  which  makes  a man 
a good  guardian  will  make  a woman  a good  guardian ; for  their 
original  nature  is  the  same  ? 

Yes. 

I should  like  to  ask  you  a question. 

What  is  it? 

Would  you  say  that  all  men  are  equal  in  excellence,  or  is  one 
man  better  than  another? 

The  latter. 

And  in  the  commonwealth  which  we  were  founding  do  you 
conceive  the  guardians  who  have  been  brought  up  on  our 
model  system  to  be  more  perfect  men,  or  the  cobblers  whose 
education  has  been  cobbling? 

What  a ridiculous  question! 

You  have  answered  me,  I replied:  Well,  and  may  we  not 
further  say  that  our  guardians  are  the  best  of  our  citizens  ? 

By  far  the  best. 

^A^d  will  not  their  wives  be  the  best  women? 

< Yes,  by  far  the  best. 

And  can  there  be  anything  better  for  the  interests  of  the 
^ State  than  that  the  men  and  women  of  a State  should  be  as 
good  as  possible  ? 

There  can  be  nothing  better. 

And  this  is  what  the  arts  of  music  and  gymnastics,  when 
present  in  such  a manner  as  we  have  described,  will  accom- 
plish ? 

Certainly. 

Then  we  have  made  an  enactment  not  only  possible  but  in 
the  highest  degree  beneficial  to  the  State? 

True. 

Then  let  the  wives  of  our  guardians  strip,  for  their  virtue 
will  be  their  robe,  and  let  them  share  in  the  toils  of  war  and 
the  defence  of  their  country ; only  in  the  distribution  of  labors 


THE  REPUBLIC 


147 


the  lighter  are  to  be  assigned  to  the  women,  who  are  the  weaker 
natures,  but  in  other  respects  their  duties  are  to  be  the  same. 
And  as  for  the  man  who  laughs  at  naked  women  exercising 
their  bodies  from  the  best  of  motives,  in  his  laughter  he  is 
plucking 

“ A fruit  of  unripe  wisdom,” 

and  he  himself  is  ignorant  of  what  he  is  laughing  at,  or  what 
he  is  about ; for  that  is,  and  ever  will  be,  the  best  of  sayings, 
‘‘  that  the  useful  is  the  noble,  and  the  hurtful  is  the  base.'' 

Very  true. 

Here,  then,  is  one  difficulty  in  our  law  about  women,  which 
we  may  say  that  we  have  now  escaped ; the  wave  has  not  swal- 
lowed us  up  alive  for  enacting  that  the  guardians  of  either  sex 
should  have  all  their  pursuits  in  common;  to  the  utility  and 
also  to  the  possibility  of  this  arrangement  the  consistency  of  the 
argument  with  itself  bears  witness. 

Yes,  that  was  a mighty  wave  which  you  have  escaped. 

Yes,  I said,  but  a greater  is  coming;  you  will  not  think  much 
of  this  when  you  see  the  next. 

Go  on ; let  me  see. 

The  law,  I said,  which  is  the  sequel  of  this  and  of  all  that 
has  preceded,  is  to  the  following  effect,  that  the  wives  of  our 
guardians  are  to  be  common,  and  their  children  are  to  be  com- 
mon, and  no  parent  is  to  know  his  own  child,  nor  any  child  his 
parent." 

Yes,  he  said,  that  is  a much  greater  wave  than  the  other; 
and  the  possibility  as  well  as  the  utility  of  such  a law  are  far 
more  questionable. 

I do  not  think,  I said,  that  there  can  be  any  dispute  about 
the  very  great  utility  of  having  wives  and  children  in  common ; 
the  possibility  is  quite  another  matter,  and  will  be  very  much 
disputed. 

I think  that  a good  many  doubts  may  be  raised  about  both. 

You  imply  that  the  two  questions  must  be  combined,  I re- 
plied. Now  I meant  that  you  should  admit  the  utility;  and 
in  this  way,  as  I thought,  I should  escape  from  one  of  them, 
and  then  there  would  remain  only  the  possibility. 

B.ut  that  little  attempt  is  detected,  and  therefore  you  will 
please  to  give  a defence  of  both. 


PLATO 


I4« 

Well,  I said,  I submit  to  my  fate.  Yet  grant  me  a little 
favor : let  me  feast  my  mind  with  the  dream  as  day-dreamers 
are  in  the  habit  of  feasting  themselves  when  they  are  walking 
alone ; for  before  they  have  discovered  any  means  of  effecting 
their  wishes — that  is  a matter  which  never  troubles  them — they 
would  rather  not  tire  themselves  by  thinking  about  possibilities ; 
but  assuming  that  what  they  desire  is  already  granted  to  them, 
they  proceed  with  their  plan,  and  delight  in  detailing  what  they 
mean  to  do  when  their  wish  has  come  true — that  is  a way  which 
they  have  of  not  doing  much  good  to  a capacity  which  was 
never  good  for  much.  Now  I myself  am  beginning  to  lose 
heart,  and  I should  like,  with  your  permission,  to  pass  over  the 
question  of  possibility  at  present.  Assuming  therefore  the  pos- 
sibility of  the  proposal,  I shall  now  proceed  to  inquire  how  the 
rulers  will  carry  out  these  arrangements,  and  I shall  demon- 
strate that  our  plan,  if  executed,  will  be  of  the  greatest  benefit 
to  the  State  and  to  the  guardians.  First  of  all,  then,  if  you 
have  no  objection,  I will  endeavor  with  your  help  to  consider 
the  advantages  of  the  measure;  and  hereafter  the  question  of 
possibility. 

I have  no  objection;  proceed. 

First, think  that  if  our  rulers  and  their  auxiliaries  are  to 
be  worthy  of  the  name  which  they  bear,  there  must  be  willing- 
ness to  obey  in  the  one  and  the  power  of  command  in  the  other ; 
the  guardians  themselves  must  obey  the  laws,  and  they  must 
also  imitate  the  spirit  of  them  in  any  details  which  are  intrusted 
to  their  care. 

That  is  right,  he  said. 

You,  I said,  who  are  their  legislator,  having  selected  the  men, 
will  now  select  the  women  and  give  them  to  them ; they  must 
be  as  far  as  possible  of  like  natures  with  them ; and  they  must 
live  in  common  houses  and  meet  at  common  meals.  None  of 
them  will  have  anything  specially  his  or  her  own ; they  will  be 
together,  and  will  be  brought  up  together,  and  will  associate 
at  gymnastic  exercises.  And  so  they  will  be  drawn  by  a neces- 
sity of  their  natures  to  have  intercourse  with  each  other — ne- 
cessity is  not  too  strong  a word,  I think  ? 

Yes,  he  said ; necessity,  not  geometrical,  but  another  sort  of 
necessity  which  lovers  know,  and  which  is  far  more  convincing 
and  constraining  to  the  mass  of  mankind. 


THE  REPUBLIC 


149 

\ True,  I said ; and  this,  Glaucon,  like  all  the  rest,  must  proceed 
' 'after  an  orderly  fashion ; in  a city  of  the  blessed,  licentiousness 
is  an  unholy  thing  which  the  rulers  will  forbid. 

Yes,  he  said,  and  it  ought  not  to  be  permitted. 

Then  clearly  the  next  thing  will  be  to  make  matrimony  sacred 
in  the  highest  degree,  and  what  is  most  beneficial  will  be  deemed 
sacred  ? 

Exactly. 

And  how  can  jaijmages  be  made  most  beneficial  ? that  is  a 
question  which  I put  to  you,  because  I see  in  your  house  dogs 
for  hunting,  and  of  the  nobler  sort  of  birds  not  a few.  Now, 
I beseech  you,  do  tell  me,  haye  ^omever  attended  to  their  pair- 
ing and  breeding  ? 

In  what  particulars? 

Why,  in  the  first  place,  although  they  are  all  of  a good  sort, 
are  not  some  better  than  others  ? 

True.  ^ 

And  do  you  breed  from  them  all  indifferently,  or  do  you  take 
care  to  breed  from  the  best  only  ? 

From  the  best. 

And  do  you  take  the  oldest  or  the  youngest,  or  only  those 
of  ripe  age? 

, I choose  only  those  of  ripe  age. 

And  if  care  was  not  taken  in  the  breeding,  your  dogs  and 
birds  would  greatly  deteriorate? 

Certainly. 

And  the  same  of  horses  and  of  animals  in  general  ? 

Undoubtedly. 

Good  heavens ! my  dear  friend,  I said,  what  consummate  skill 
will  our  rulers  need  if  the  same  principle  holds  of  the  human 
species ! 

Certainly,  the  same  principle  holds;  but  why  does  this  in- 
volve any  particular  skill  ? 

Because,  I said,  our  rulers  will  often  have  to  practise  upon 
the  body  corporate  with  medicines.  Now  you  know  that  when 
patients  do  not  require  medicines,  but  have  only  to  be  put  under 
a regimen,  the  inferior  sort  of  practitioner  is  deemed  to  be  good 
enough;  but  when  medicine  has  to  be  given,  then  the  doctor 
should  be  more  of  a man. 

That  is  quite  true,  he  said;  but  to  what  are  you  alluding? 


ISO 


PLATO 


I mean,  I replied,  that  our  rulers  will  find  a considerable  dose 
of  falsehood  and  deceit  necessary  for  the  good  of  their  subjects : 
we  were  saying  that  the  use  of  all  these  things  regarded  as  med- 
icines might  be  of  advantage. 

And  we  were  very  right. 

And  this  lawful  use  of  them  seems  likely  to  be  often  needed 
in  the  regulations  of  marriages  and  births. 

How  so? 

Why,  I said,  the  principle  has  been  already  laid  down  that 
the  best  of  either  sex  should  be  united  with  the  best  as  often, 
/ and  the  inferior  with  the  inferior  as  seldom,  as  possible;  and 
that  they  should  rear  the  offspring  of  the  one  sort  of  union, 
/\  but  not  of  the  other,  if  the  flock  is  to  be  maintained  in  first-rate 
condition.  Now  these  goings  on  must  be  a secret  which  the 
rulers  only  know,  or  there  will  be  a further  danger  of  our  herd, 
as  the  guardians  may  be  termed,  breaking  out  into  rebellion. 

Very  true. 

Had  we  better  not  appoint  certain  festivals  at  which  we  will 
bring  together  the  brides  and  bridegrooms,  and  sacrifices  will 
be  offered  and  suitable  hymeneal  songs  composed  by  our  poets : 
\,  the  number  of  weddings  is  a matter  which  must  be  left  to  the 
discretion  of  the  rulers,  whose  aim  will  be  to  preserve  the  aver- 
age of  population?  There  are  many  other  things  which  they 
will  have  to  consider,  such  as  the  effects  of  wars  and  diseases 
and  any  similar  agencies,  in  order  as  far  as  this  is  possible  to 
prevent  the  State  from  becoming  either  too  large  or  too  small. 

Certainly,  he  replied. 

We  shall  have  to  invent  some  ingenious  kind  of  lots  which 
the  less  worthy  may  draw  on  each  occasion  of  our  bringing 
them  together,  and  then  they  will  accuse  their  own  ill-luck  and 
not  the  rulers. 

To  be  sure,  he  said. 

And  I think  that  our  braver  and  better  youth,  besides  their 
other  honors  and  rewards,  might  have  greater  facilities  of  in- 
tercourse with  women  given  them ; their  bravery  will  be  a rea- 
son, and  such  fathers  ought  to  have  as  many  sons  as  possible. 

True. 

And  the  proper  officers,  whether  male  or  female  or  both, 
for  offices  are  to  be  held  by  women  as  well  as  by  men 

Yes 


THE  REPUBLIC 


151 

The  proper  officers  will  take  the  offspring  of  the  good  parents 
to  the  pen  or  fold,  and  there  they  will  deposit  them  with  certain 
nurses  who  dwell  in  a separate  quarter ; but  the  offspring  of  the 
inferior,  or  of  the  better  when  they  chance  to  be  deformed,  will 
be  put  away  in  some  mysterious,  unknown  place,  as  they  should 
be. 

Yes,  he  said,  that  must  be  done  if  the  breed  of  the  guardians 
is  to  be  kept  pure. 

They  will  provide  for  their  nurture,  and  will  bring  the 
mothers  to  the  fold  when  they  are  full  of  milk,  taking  the  great- 
est possible  care  that  no  mother  recognizes  her  own  child ; and 
other  wet-nurses  may  be  engaged  if  more  are  required.  Care 
will  also  be  taken  that  the  process  of  suckling  shall  not  be  pro- 
tracted too  long;  and  the  mothers  will  have  no  getting  up  at 
night  or  other  trouble,  but  will  hand  over  all  this  sort  of  thing 
to  the  nurses  and  attendants. 

You  suppose  the  wives  of  our  guardians  to  have  a fine  easy 
time  of  it  when  they  are  having  children. 

Why,  said  I,  and  so  they  ought.  Let  us,  however^  proceed 
with  our  scheme.  We  were  saying  that  the  parents  should  be 
in  the  prime  of  life? 

Very  true. 

And  what  is  the  prime  of  life?  May  it  not  be  defined  as  a 
period  of  about  twenty  years  in  a woman's  life,  and  thirty 
years  in  a man's? 

Which  years  do  you  mean  to  include? 

A woman,  I said,  at  twenty  years  of  age  may  begin  to  bear 
children  to  the  State,  and  continue  to  bear  them  until  forty; 
a man  may  begin  at  five-and-twenty,  when  he  has  passed  the 
point  at  which  the  pulse  of  life  beats  quickest,  and  continue  to 
beget  children  until  he  be  fifty-five. 

Certainly,  he  said,  both  in  men  and  women  those  years  are 
the  prime  of  physical  as  well  as  of  intellectual  vigor. 

Anyone  above  or  below  the  prescribed  ages  who  takes  part 
in  the  public  hymeneals  shall  be  said  to  have  done  an  unholy 
and  unrighteous  thing;  the  child  of  which  he  is  the  father,  if 
it  steals  into  life,  will  have  been  conceived  under  auspices  very 
unlike  the  sacrifices  and  prayers,  which  at  each  hymeneal  priest- 
esses and  priests  and  the  whole  city  will  offer,  that  the  new 

generation  may  be  better  and  more  useful  than  their  good  and 

Classics.  Vol.  31 — 11 


PLATO 


useful  parents,  whereas  his  child  will  be  the  offspring  of  dark- 
ness and  strange  lust. 

Very  true,  he  replied. 

And  the  same  law  will  apply  to  any  one  of  those  within  the 
prescribed  age  who  forms  a connection  with  any  woman  in  the 
prime  of  life  without  the  sanction  of  the  rulers;  for  we  shall 
say  that  he  is  raising  up  a bastard  to  the  State,  uncertified  and 
unconsecrated. 

Very  true,  he  replied. 

This  applies,  however,  only  to  those  who  are  within  the  spec- 
ified age : after  that  we  will  allow  them  to  range  at  will,  except 
that  a man  may  not  marry  his  daughter  or  his  daughter’s 
daughter,  or  his  mother  or  his  mother’s  mother;  and  women, 
on  the  other  hand,  are  prohibited  from  marrying  their  sons  or 
fathers,  or  son’s  son  or  father’s  father,  and  so  on  in  either  di- 
rection. And  we  grant  all  this,  accompanying  the  permission 
with  strict  orders  to  prevent  any  embryo  which  may  come  into 
being  from  seeing  the  light ; and  if  any  force  a way  to  the  birth, 
the  parents  must  understand  that  the  offspring  of  such  a union 
cannot  be  maintained,  and  arrange  accordingly. 

That  also,  he  said,  is  a reasonable  proposition.  But  how 
will  they  know  who  are  fathers  and  daughters,  and  so  on  ? 

They  will  never  know.  The  way  will  be  this : dating  from 
the  day  of  the  hymeneal,  the  bridegroom  who  was  then  married 
will  call  all  the  male  children  who  are  born  in  the  seventh  and 
the  tenth  month  afterward  his  sons,  and  the  female  children  his 
daughters,  and  they  will  call  him  father,  and  he  will  call  their 
children  his  grandchildren,  and  they  will  call  the  elder  genera- 
tion grandfathers  and  grandmothers.  All  who  were  begotten 
at  the  time  when  their  fathers  and  mothers  came  together  will 
be  called  their  brothers  and  sisters,  and  these,  as  I was  saying, 
will  be  forbidden  to  intermarry.  This,  however,  is  not  to  be 
understood  as  an  absolute  prohibition  of  the  marriage  of 
brothers  and  sisters ; if  the  lot  favors  them,  and  they  receive  the 
sanction  of  the  Pythian  oracle,  the  law  will  allow  them. 

Quite  right,  he  replied. 

Such  is  the  scheme,  Glaucon,  according  to  which  the  guar- 
dians of  our  State  are  to  have  their  vdves  and  families  in  com- 
mon. And  now  you  would  have  the  argument  show  that  this 
community  is  consistent  with  thj  rest  of  our  polity,  and  also 
that  nothing  can  be  bettei^^ta^uld  you  not? 


THE  REPUBLIC 


153 


Yes,  certainly. 

Shall  we  try  to  find  a common  basis  by  asking  of  ourselves 
what  ought  to  be  the  chief  aim  of  the  legislator  in  making  laws 
and  in  the  organization  of  a State — what  is  the  greatest  good, 
and  what  is  the  greatest  evil,  and  then  consider  whether  our 
previous  description  has  the  stamp  of  the  good  or  of  the  evil  ? 

By  all  means. 

Can  there  be  any  greater  evil  than  discord  and  distraction 
and  plurality  where  unity  ought  to  reign  ? or  any  greater  good 
than  the  bond  of  unity  ? 

There  cannot. 

And  there  is  unity  where  there  is  community  of  pleasures 
and  pains — where  all  the  citizens  are  glad  or  grieved  on  the 
same  occasions  of  joy  and  sorrow? 

No  doubt. 

Yes;  and  where  there  is  no  common  but  only  private  feeling 
a State  is  disorganized — when  you  have  one-half  of  the  world 
triumphing  and  the  other  plunged  in  grief  at  the  same  events 
happening  to  the  city  or  the  citizens  ? 

Certainly. 

Such  differences  commonly  originate  in  a disagreement  about 
the  use  of  the  terms  ‘‘  mine  ” and  “ not  mine/'  his  " and  “ not 
his." 

Exactly  so. 

And  is  not  that  the  best-ordered  State  in  which  the  greatest 
number  of  persons  apply  the  terms  ‘‘  mine  " and  not  mine  " in 
the  same  way  to  the  same  thing? 

Quite  true. 

Or  that  again  which  most  nearly  approaches  to  the  condition 
of  the  individual — as  in  the  body,  when  but  a finger  of  one  of 
us  is  hurt,  the  whole  frame,  drawn  toward  the  soul  as  a centre 
and  forming  one  kingdom  under  the  ruling  power  therein,  feels 
the  hurt  and  sympathizes  all  together  with  the  part  affected, 
and  we  say  that  the  man  has  a pain  in  his  finger;  and  the 
same  expression  is  used  about  any  other  part  of  the  body,  which 
has  a sensation  of  pain  at  suffering  or  of  pleasure  at  the  alle- 
viation of  suffering. 

Very  true,  he  replied ; and  I agree  with  you  that  in  the  best- 
ordered  State  there  is  the  nearest  approach  to  this  common  feel- 
ing which  you  describe. 


154 


PLATO 


Then  when  any  one  of  the  citizens  experiences  any  good  or 
evil,  the  whole  State  will  make  his  case  their  own,  and  will 
either  rejoice  or  sorrow  with  him? 

Yes,  he  said,  that  is  what  will  happen  in  a well-ordered  State. 

It  will  now  be  time,  I said,  for  us  to  return  to  our  State  and 
see  whether  this  or  some  other  form  is  most  in  accordance  with 
these  fundamental  principles. 

Very  good. 

Our  State,  like  every  other,  has  rulers  and  subjects? 

True. 

All  of  whom  will  call  one  another  citizens? 

, Of  course. 

/ But  is  there  not  another  name  which  people  give  to  their 
^ rulers  in  other  States? 

Generally  they  call  them  masters,  but  in  democratic  States 
they  simply  call  them  rulers. 

And  in  our  State  what  other  name  besides  that  of  citizens 
do  the  people  give  the  rulers  ? 

They  are  called  saviours  and  helpers,  he  replied. 

And  what  do  the  rulers  call  the  people  ? 

Their  maintainers  and  foster-fathers. 

And  what  do  they  call  them  in  other  States? 

Slaves. 

And  what  do  the  rulers  call  one  another  in  other  States? 

Fellow-rulers. 

And  what  in  ours? 

Fellow-guardians. 

Did  you  ever  know  an  example  in  any  other  State  of  a ruler 
who  would  speak  of  one  of  his  colleagues  as  his  friend  and  of 
another  as  not  being  his  friend? 

Yes,  very  often. 

And  the  friend  he  regards  and  describes  as  one  in  whom 
he  has  an  interest,  and  the  other  as  a stranger  in  whom  he  has 
no  interest? 

Exactly. 

But  would  any  of  your  guardians  think  or  speak  of  any 
other  guardian  as  a stranger? 

Certainly  he  would  not ; for  everyone  whom  they  meet  will 
be  regarded  by  them  either  as  a brother  or  sister,  or  father 
or  mother,  or  son  or  daughter,  or  as  the  child  or  parent  of 
those  who  are  thus  connected  with  him. 


THE  REPUBLIC 


IS5 


Capital,  I said;  but  let  me  ask  you  once  more:  Shall  they 
be  a family  in  name  only;  or  shall  they  in  all  their  actions  be 
true  lo  the  name?  For  example,  in  the  use  of  the  word 
“ father/’  would  the  care  of  a father  be  implied  and  the  filial 
reverence  and  duty  and  obedience  to  him  which  the  law  com- 
mands ; and  is  the  violator  of  these  duties  to  be  regarded  as  an 
impious  and  unrighteous  person  who  is  not  likely  to  receive 
much  good  either  at  the  hands  of  God  or  of  man?  Are  these 
to  be  or  not  to  be  the  strains  which  the  children  will  hear  re- 
peated in  their  ears  by  all  the  citizens  about  those  who  are  inti- 
mated to  them  to  be  their  parents  and  the  rest  of  their  kinsfolk  ? 

These,  he  said,  and  none  other ; for  what  can  be  more  ridicu- 
lous than  for  them  to  utter  the  names  of  family  ties  with  the 
lips  only  and  not  to  act  in  the  spirit  of  them  ? 

Then  in  our  city  the  language  of  harmony  and  concord  will 
be  more  often  heard  than  in  any  other.  As  I was  describing 
before,  when  anyone  is  well  or  ill,  the  universal  word  will  be 
**  with  me  it  is  well  ” or  ‘‘  it  is  ill.” 

Most  true. 

And  agreeably  to  this  mode  of  thinking  and  speaking,  were 
we  not  saying  that  they  will  have  their  pleasures  and  pains  in 
common  ? 

Yes,  and  so  they  will. 

And  they  will  have  a common  interest  in  the  same  thing 
which  they  will  alike  call  my  own,”  and  having  this  common 
interest  they  will  have  a common  feeling  of  pleasure  and  pain? 

Yes,  far  more  so  than  in  other  States. 

And  the  reason  of  this,  over  and  above  the  general  constitu- 
tion of  the  State,  will  be  that  the  guardians  will  have  a com- 
munity of  women  and  children? 

That  will  be  the  chief  reason. 

And  this  unity  of  feeling  we  admitted  to  be  the  greatest  good,  | 
as  was  implied  in  our  comparison  of  a well-ordered  State  to  the  / 
relation  of  the  body  and  the  members,  when  affected  by  pleas-  / 
ure  or  pain?  ^ 

That  we  acknowledged,  and  very  rightly. 

Then  the  community  of  wives  and  children  among  our  citi- 
zens is  clearly  the  source  of  the  greatest  good  to  the  State  ? 

Certainly. 

And  this  agrees  with  the  other  principle  which  we  were 


15^ 


PLATO 


affirming — that  the  guardians  were  not  to  have  houses  or  lands 
or  any  other  property;  their  pay  was  to  be  their  food,  which 
they  were  to  receive  from  the  other  citizens,  and  they  were  to 
have  no  private  expenses;  for  we  intended  them  to  preserve 
their  true  character  of  guardians. 

Right,  he  replied. 

Both  the  community  of  property  and  the  community  of  fami- 
lies, as  I am  saying,  tend  to  make  them  more  truly  guardians ; 
they  will  not  tear  the  city  in  pieces  by  differing  about  ‘‘  mine 
and  ‘‘  not  mine ; ’’  each  man  dragging  any  acquisition  which  he 
has  made  into  a separate  house  of  his  own,  where  he  has  a sep- 
arate wife  and  children  and  private  pleasures  and  pains;  but 
all  will  be  affected  as  far  as  may  be  by  the  same  pleasures  and 
pains  because  they  are  all  of  one  opinion  about  what  is  near  and 
dear  to  them,  and  therefore  they  all  tend  toward  a common  end. 

Certainly,  he  replied. 

And  as  they  have  nothing  but  their  persons  which  they  can 
call  their  own,  suits  and  complaints  will  have  no  existence 
among  them ; they  will  be  delivered  from  all  those  quarrels  of 
which  money  or  children  or  relations  are  the  occasion. 

Of  course  they  will. 

Neither  will  trials  for  assault  or  insult  ever  be  likely  to  occur 
among  them.  For  that  equals  should  defend  themselves  against 
equals  we  shall  maintain  to  be  honorable  and  right;  we  shall 
make  the  protection  of  the  person  a matter  of  necessity. 

That  is  good,  he  said. 

Yes;  and  there  is  a further  good  in  the  law;  viz.,  that  if 
a man  has  a quarrel  with  another  he  will  satisfy  his  resentment 
then  and  there,  and  not  proceed  to  more  dangerous  lengths. 

Certainly. 

To  the  elder  shall  be  assigned  the  duty  of  ruling  and  chastis- 
ing the  younger. 

Clearly. 

Nor  can  there  be  a doubt  that  the  younger  will  not  strike  or 
"do  any  other  violence  to  an  elder,  unless  the  magistrates  com- 
mand him ; nor  will  he  slight  him  in  any  way.  For  there  are 
two  guardians,  shame  and  fear,  mighty  to  prevent  him : shame, 
which  makes  men  refrain  from  laying  hands  on  those  who  are 
to  them  in  the  relation  of  parents;  fear,  that  the  injured  one 
will  be  succored  by  the  others  who  are  his  brothers,  sons, 
fathers. 


THE  REPUBLIC 


*57 


That  is  true,  he  replied. 

Then  in  every  way  the  laws  will  help  the  citizens  to  keep  the 
peace  with  one  another? 

Yes,  there  will  be  no  want  of  peace. 

And  as  the  guardians  will  never  quarrel  among  themselves 
there  will  be  no  danger  of  the  rest  of  the  city  being  divided 
either  against  them  or  against  one  another. 

None  whatever. 

I hardly  like  even  to  mention  the  little  meannesses  of  which 
they  will  be  rid,  for  they  are  beneath  notice : such,  for  example, 
as  the  flattery  of  the  rich  by  the  poor,  and  all  the  pains  and 
pangs  which  men  experience  in  bringing  up  a family,  and  in 
finding  money  to  buy  necessaries  for  their  household,  borrow- 
ing and  then  repudiating,  getting  how  they  can,  and  giving 
the  money  into  the  hands  of  women  and  slaves  to  keep — 
the  many  evils  of  so  many  kinds  which  people  suffer  in  this 
way  are  mean  enough  and  obvious  enough,  and  not  worth 
speaking  of. 

Yes,  he  said,  a man  has  no  need  of  eyes  in  order  to  perceive 
th'at. 

And  from  all  these  evils  they  will  be  delivered,  and  their  life 
will  be  blessed  as  the  life  of  Olympic  victors  and  yet  more 
blessed. 

How  so? 

The  Olympic  victor,  I said,  is  deemed  happy  in  receiving  a 
part  only  of  the  blessedness  which  is  secured  to  our  citizens, 
who  have  won  a more  glorious  victory  and  have  a more  com- 
plete maintenance  at  the  public  cost.  For  the  victory  which 
they  have  won  is  the  salvation  of  the  whole  State;  and  the 
crown  with  which  they  and  their  children  are  crowned  is  the 
fuTnesS  of  all  that  life  needs;  they  receive  rewards  from  the 
hands  of  their  country  while  living,  and  after  death  have  an 
honorable  burial. 

Do  you  remember,  I said,  how  in  the  course  of  the  previous 
discussion  someone  who  shall  be  nameless  accused  us  of  mak- 
ing our  guardians  unhappy — they  had  nothing  and  might  have 
possessed  all  things — to  whom  we  replied  that,  if  an  occasion 
offered,  we  might  perhaps  hereafter  consider  this  question, 
but  that,  as  at  present  divided,  we  would  make  our  guardians 
truly  guardians,  and  that  we  were  fashioning  the  State  with  a 


PLATO 


158 

view  to  the  greatest  happiness,  not  of  any  particular  class,  but 
of  the  whole? 

Yes^  I remember. 

And  what  do  you  say,  now  that  the  life  of  our  protectors  is 
made  out  to  be  far  better  and  nobler  than  that  of  Olympic  vic- 
tors— is  the  life  of  shoemakers,  or  any  other  artisans,  or  of 
husbandmen,  to  be  compared  with  it? 

Certainly  not. 

At  the  same  time  I ought  here  to  repeat  what  I have  said 
elsewhere,  that  if  any  of  our  guardians  shall  try  to  be  happy 
in  such  a manner  that  he  will  cease  to  be  a guardian,  and  is  not 
content  with  this  safe  and  harmonious  life,  which,  in  our  judg- 
ment, is  of  all  lives  the  best,  but,  infatuated  by  some  youthful 
conceit  of  happiness  which  gets  up  into  his  head  shall  seek  to 
appropriate  the  whole  State  to  himself,  then  he  will  have  to 
learn  how  wisely  Hesiod  spoke,  when  he  said,  half  is  more 
than  the  whole.’’ 

If  he  were  to  consult  me,  I should  say  to  him:  Stay  where 
you  are,  when  you  have  the  offer  of  such  a life. 

You  agree  then,  I said,  that  men  and  women  are  to  have  a 
common  way  of  life  such  as  we  have  described — common  edu- 
cation, common  children ; and  they  are  to  watch  over  the  citi- 
zens in  common  whether  abiding  in  the  city  or  going  out  to 
war;  they  are  to  keep  watch  together,  and  to  hunt  together 
like  dogs ; and  always  and  in  all  things,  as  far  as  they  are  able, 
women  are  to  share  with  the  men  ? And  in  so  doing  they  will 
do  what  is  best,  and  will  not  violate,  but  preserve,  the  natural 
relation  of  the  sexes. 

I agree  with  you,  he  replied. 

The  inquiry,  I said,  has  yet  to  be  made,  whether  such  a com- 
munity will  be  found  possible — as  among  other  animals,  so  also 
among  men— and  if  possible,  in  what  way  possible  ? 

You  have  anticipated  the  question  which  I was  about  to 
suggest. 

There  is  no  difficulty,  I said,  in  seeing  how  war  will  be  car- 
ried on  by  them. 

How? 

Why,  of  course  they  will  go  on  expeditions  together;  and 
will  take  with  them  any  of  their  children  who  are  strong 
enough,  that,  after  the  manner  of  the  artisan’s  child,  they  may 


THE  REPUBLIC 


*59 


look  on  at  the  work  which  they  will  have  to  do  when  they  are 
grown  up;  and  besides  looking  on  they  will  have  to  help  and 
be  of  use  in  war,  and  to  wait  upon  their  fathers  and  mothers. 
Did  you  never  observe  in  the  arts  how  the  potters’  boys  look  on 
and  help,  long  before  they  touch  the  wheel  ? 

Yes,  I have. 

And  shall  potters  be  more  careful  in  educating  their  children 
and  in  giving  them  the  opportunity  of  seeing  and  practising 
their  duties  than  our  guardians  will  be? 

The  idea  is  ridiculous,  he  said. 

There  is  also  the  effect  on  the  parents,  with  whom,  as  with 
other  animals,  the  presence  of  their  young  ones  will  be  the 
greatest  incentive  to  valor. 

That  is  quite  true,  Socrates;  and  yet  if  they  are  defeated, 
which  may  often  happen  in  war,  how  great  the  danger  is ! the 
children  will  be  lost  as  well  as  their  parents,  and  the  State  will 
never  recover. 

True,  I said;  but  would  you  never  allow  them  to  run  any 
risk? 

I am  far  from  saying  that. 

Well,  but  if  they  are  ever  to  run  a risk  should  they  not  do 
so  on  some  occasion  when,  if  they  escape  disaster,  they  will  be 
the  better  for  it? 

Clearly. 

Whether  the  future  soldiers  do  or  do  not  see  war  in  the  days 
of  their  youth  is  a very  important  matter,  for  the  sake  of  which 
some  risk  may  fairly  be  incurred. 

Yes,  very  important. 

This  then  must  be  our  first  step— to  make  our  children  spec- 
tators of  war ; but  we  must  also  contrive  that  they  shall  be  se- 
cured against  danger ; then  all  will  be  well. 

True. 

Their  parents  may  be  supposed  not  to  be  blind  to  the  risks 
of  war,  but  to  know,  as  far  as  human  foresight  can,  what  ex- 
peditions are  safe  and  what  dangerous? 

That  may  be  assumed. 

And  they  will  take  them  on  the  safe  expeditions  and  be  cau- 
tious about  the  dangerous  ones? 

True. 

And  they  will  place  them  under  the  command  of  experienced 
veterans  who  will  be  their  leaders  and  teachers? 


l6o 


PLATO 


Very  properly. 

Still,  the  dangers  of  war  cannot  be  always  foreseen;  there 
is  a good  deal  of  chance  about  them  ? 

True. 

Then  against  such  chances  the  children  must  be  at  once  fur- 
nished with  wings,  in  order  that  in  the  hour  of  need  they  may 
fly  away  and  escape. 

What  do  you  mean  ? he  said. 

I mean  that  we  must  mount  them  on  horses  in  their  earliest 
youth,  and  when  they  have  learnt  to  ride,  take  them  on  horse- 
back to  see  war:  the  horses  must  not  be  spirited  and  warlike, 
but  the  most  tractable  and  yet  the  swiftest  that  can  be  had.  In 
this  way  they  will  get  an  excellent  view  of  what  is  hereafter 
to  be  their  own  business ; and  if  there  is  danger  they  have  only 
to  follow  their  elder  leaders  and  escape. 

I believe  that  you  are  right,  he  said. 

Next,  as  to  war ; what  are  to  be  the  relations  of  your  soldiers 
to  one  another  and  to  their  enemies?  I should  be  inclined  to 
propose  that  the  soldier  who  leaves  his  rank  or  throws  away 
his  arms,  or  is  guilty  of  any  other  act  of  cowardice,  should  be 
degraded  into  the  rank  of  a husbandman  or  artisan.  What 
do  you  think? 

By  all  means,  I should  say. 

And  he  who  allows  himself  to  be  taken  prisoner  may  as  well 
be  made  a present  of  to  his  enemies;  he  is  their  lawful  prey, 
and  let  them  do  what  they  like  with  him. 

Certainly. 

But  the  hero  who  has  distinguished  himself,  what  shall  be 
done  to  him?  In  the  first  place,  he  shall  receive  honor  in  the 
army  from  his  youthful  comrades ; every  one  of  them  in  succes- 
sion shall  crown  him.  What  do  you  say  ? 

I approve. 

And  what  do  you  say  to  his  receiving  the  right  hand  of  fel- 
lowship ? 

To  that  too,  I agree. 

But  you  will  hardly  agree  to  my  next  proposal. 

What  is  your  proposal  ? 

That  he  should  kiss  and  be  kissed  by  them. 

Most  certainly,  and  I should  be  disposed  to  go  further,  and 
say : Let  no  one  whom  he  has  a mind  to  kiss  refuse  to  be  kissed 


THE  REPUBLIC 


I6i 

by  him  while  the  expedition  lasts.  So  that  if  there  be  a lover 
in  the  army,  whether  his  love  be  youth  or  maiden,  he  may  be 
more  eager  to  win  the  prize  of  valor. 

Capital,  I said.  That  the  brave  man  is  to  have  more  wives 
than  others  has  been  already  determined : and  he  is  to  have  first 
choices  in  such  matters  more  than  others,  in  order  that  he  may 
have  as  many  children  as  possible? 

Agreed. 

Again,  there  is  another  manner  in  which,  according  to 
Homer,  brave  youths  should  be  honored;  for  he  tells  how 
Ajax,^  after  he  had  distinguished  himself  in  battle,  was  re- 
warded with  long  chines,  which  seems  to  be  a compliment  ap- 
propriate to  a hero  in  the  flower  of  his  age,  being  not  only  a 
tribute  of  honor  but  also  a very  strengthening  thing. 

Most  true,  he  said. 

Then  in  this,  I said,  Homer  shall  be  our  teacher ; and  we  too, 
at  sacrifices  and  on  the  like  occasions,  will  honor  the  brave  ac- 
cording to  the  measure  of  their  valor,  whether  men  or  women, 
with  hymns  and  those  other  distinctions  which  we  were  men- 
tioning ; also  with 

“ seats  of  precedence,  and  meats  and  full  cups;  ”* 

and  in  honoring  them,  we  shall  be-at  the  same  time  training 
them. 

That,  he  replied,  is  excellent. 

Yes,  I said;  and  when  a man  dies  gloriously  in  war  shall 
we  not  say,  in  the  first  place,  that  he  is  of  the  golden  race? 

To  be  sure. 

Nay,  have  we  not  the  authority  of  Hesiod  for  affirming  that 
when  they  are  dead 

“They  are  holy  angels  upon  the  earth,  authors  of  good,  averters 
of  evil,  the  guardians  of  speech-gifted  men  ” ? * 

Yes;  and  we  accept  his  authority. 

We  must  learn  of  the  god  how  we  are  to  order  the  sepulture 
of  divine  and  heroic  personages,  and  what  is  to  be  their  special 
distinction ; and  we  must  do  as  he  bids  ? 

By  all  means. 

And  in  ages  to  come  we  will  reverence  them  and  kneel  before 

* **  Iliad,**  vii.  321.  • “ Iliad,**  viii.  162.  • Probably  “ Works  and  Days,**  121  fol. 


i62 


PLATO 


their  sepulchres  as  at  the  graves  of  heroes.  And  not  only  they, 
but  any  who  are  deemed  pre-eminently  good,  whether  they  die 
from  age  or  in  any  other  way,  shall  be  admitted  to  the  same 
honors. 

That  is  very  right,  he  said. 

Next,  how  shall  our  soldiers  treat  their  enemies?  What 
about  this? 

In  what  respect  do  you  mean? 

First  of  all,  in  regard  to  slavery?  Do  you  think  it  right  that 
Hellenes  should  enslave  Hellenic  States,  or  allow  others  to  en- 
slave them,  if  they  can  help?  Should  not  their  custom  be  to 
spare  them,  considering  the  danger  which  there  is  that  the 
whole  race  may  one  day  fall  under  the  yoke  of  the  barbarians  ? 

To  spare  them  is  infinitely  better. 

Then  no  Hellene  should  be  owned  by  them  as  a slave ; that 
is  a rule  which  they  will  observe  and  advise  the  other  Hellenes 
to  observe. 

Certainly,  he  said;  they  will  in  this  way  be  united  against 
the  barbarians  and  will  keep  their  hands  off  one  another. 

Next  as  to  the  slain;  ought  the  conquerors,  I said,  to  take 
anything  but  their  armor?  Does  not  the  practice  of  despoil- 
ing an  enemy  afford  an  excuse  for  not  facing  the  battle? 
Cowards  skulk  about  the  dead,  pretending  that  they  are  ful- 
filling a duty,  and  many  an  army  before  now  has  been  lost 
from  this  love  of  plunder. 

Very  true. 

And  is  there  not  illiberality  and  avarice  in  robbing  a corpse, 
and  also  a degree  of  meanness  and  womanishness  in  making  an 
enemy  of  the  dead  body  when  the  real  enemy  has  flown  away 
and  left  only  his  fighting  gear  behind  him — is  not  this  rather 
like  a dog  who  cannot  get  at  his  assailant,  quarrelling  with  the 
stones  which  strike  him  instead? 

Very  like  a dog,  he  said. 

Then  we  must  abstain  from  spoiling  the  dead  or  hindering 
their  burial  ? 

Yes,  he  replied,  we  most  certainly  must. 

Neither  shall  we  offer  up  arms  at  the  temples  of  the  gods, 
least  of  all  the  arms  of  Hellenes,  if  we  care  to  maintain  good 
feeling  with  other  Hellenes;  and,  indeed,  we  have  reason  to 
fear  that  the  offering  of  spoils  taken  from  kinsmen  may  be  a 
pollution  unless  commanded  by  the  god  himself? 


THE  REPUBLIC 


163 


Very  true. 

Again,  as  to  the  devastation  of  Hellenic  territory  or  the  burn- 
ing of  houses,  what  is  to  be  the  practice  ? 

May  I have  the  pleasure,  he  said,  of  hearing  your  opinion  ? 

Both  should  be  forbidden,  in  my  judgment;  I would  take  the 
annual  produce  and  no  more.  Shall  I tell  you  why  ? 

Pray  do. 

Why,  you  see,  there  is  a difference  in  the  names  “ discord  ” 
and  “ war,”  and  I imagine  that  there  is  also  a difference  in  their 
natures ; the  one  is  expressive  of  what  is  internal  and  domestic, 
the  other  of  what  is  external  and  foreign ; and  the  first  of  the 
two  is  termed  discord,  and  only  the  second,  war. 

That  is  a very  proper  distinction,  he  replied. 

And  may  I not  observe  with  equal  propriety  that  the  Hellenic 
race  is  all  united  together  by  ties  of  blood  and  friendship,  and 
alien  and  strange  to  the  barbarians? 

Very  good,  he  said. 

And  therefore  when  Hellenes  fight  with  barbarians,  and  bar- 
barians with  Hellenes,  they  will  be  described  by  us  as  being  at 
war  when  they  fight,  and  by  nature  enemies,  and  this  kind  of 
antagonism  should  be  called  war ; but  when  Hellenes  fight  with 
one  another  we  shall  say  that  Hellas  is  then  in  a state  of  dis- 
order and  discord,  they  being  by  nature  friends ; and  such  en- 
mity is  to  be  called  discord. 

I agree. 

Consider  then,  I said,  when  that  which  we  have  acknowl- 
edged to  be  discord  occurs,  and  a city  is  divided,  if  both  parties 
destroy  the  lands  and  burn  the  houses  of  one  another,  how 
wicked  does  the  strife  appear!  No  true  lover  of  his  country 
would  bring  himself  to  tear  in  pieces  his  own  nurse  and  mother : 
There  might  be  reason  in  the  conqueror  depriving  the  con- 
quered of  their  harvest,  but  still  they  would  have  the  idea  of 
peace  in  their  hearts,  and  would  not  mean  to  go  on  fighting 
forever. 

Yes,  he  said,  that  is  a better  temper  than  the  other. 

And  will  not  the  city,  which  you  are  founding,  be  an  Hellenic 
city? 

It  ought  to  be,  he  replied. 

Then  will  not  the  citizens  be  good  and  civilized  ? 

Yes,  very  civilized. 


164 


PLATO 


And  will  they  not  be  lovers  of  Hellas,  and  think  of  Hellas  as 
their  own  land,  and  share  in  the  common  temples  ? 

Most  certainly. 

And  any  difference  which  arises  among  them  will  be  re- 
garded by  them  as  discord  only — a quarrel  among  friends, 
which  is  not  to  be  called  a war  ? 

Certainly  not. 

Then  they  will  quarrel  as  those  who  intend  some  day  to  be 
reconciled  ? 

Certainly. 

They  will  use  friendly  correction,  but  will  not  enslave  or  de- 
stroy their  opponents;  they  will  be  correctors,  not  enemies? 

Just  so. 

And  as  they  are  Hellenes  themselves  they  will  not  devastate 
Hellas,  nor  will  they  burn  houses,  nor  ever  suppose  that  the 
whole  population  of  a city — men,  women,  and  children — ^are 
equally  their  enemies,  for  they  know  that  the  guilt  of  war  is 
always  confined  to  a few  persons  and  that  the  many  are  their 
friends.  And  for  all  these  reasons  they  will  be  unwilling  to 
waste  their  lands  and  raze  their  houses;  their  enmity  to  them 
will  only  last  until  the  many  innocent  sufferers  have  compelled 
the  guilty  few  to  give  satisfaction  ? 

I agree,  he  said,  that  our  citizens  should  thus  deal  with  their 
Hellenic  enemies;  and  with  barbarians  as  the  Hellenes  now 
deal  with  one  another. 

Then  let  us  enact  this  law  also  for  our  guardians : that  they 
are  neither  to  devastate  the  lands  of  Hellenes  nor  to  burn  their 
houses. 

Agreed;  and  we  may  agree  also  in  thinking  that  these,  like 
all  our  previous  enactments,  are  very  good. 

But  still  I must  say,  Socrates,  that  if  you  are  allowed  to  go  on 
in  this  way  you  will  entirely  forget  the  other  question  which  at 
the  commencement  of  this  discussion  you  thrust  aside : Is  such 
an  order  of  things  possible,  and  how,  if  at  all  ? For  I am  quite 
ready  to  acknowledge  that  the  plan  which  you  propose,  if  only 
feasible,  would  do  all  sorts  of  good  to  the  State.  I will  add, 
what  you  have  omitted,  that  your  citizens  will  be  the  bravest 
of  warriors,  and  will  never  leave  their  ranks,  for  they  will  all 
know  one  another,  and  each  will  call  the  other  father,  brother, 
son ; and  if  you  suppose  the  women  to  join  their  armies,  whether 


THE  REPUBLIC 


165 


in  the  same  rank  or  in  the  rear^  either  as  a terror  to  the  enemy, 
or  as  auxiliaries  in  case  of  need,  I know  that  they  will  then  be 
absolutely  invincible ; and  there  are  many  domestic  advantages 
which  might  also  be  mentioned  and  which  I also  fully  acknowU 
edge:  but,  as  I admit  all  these  advantages  and  as  many  more 
as  you  please,  if  only  this  State  of  yours  were  to  come  into 
existence,  we  need  say  no  more  about  them ; assuming  then  the 
existence  of  the  State,  let  us  now  turn  to  the  question  of  possi- 
bility and  ways  and  means — the  rest  may  be  left. 

If  I loiter^  for  a moment,  you  instantly  make  a raid  upon 
me,  I said,  and  have  no  mercy ; I have  hardly  escaped  the  first 
and  second  waves,  and  you  seem  not  to  be  aware  that  you  are 
now  bringing  upon  me  the  third,  which  is  the  greatest  and 
heaviest.  When  you  have  seen  and  heard  the  third  wave,  I 
think  you  will  be  more  considerate  and  will  acknowledge  tliat 
some  fear  and  hesitation  were  natural  respecting  a proposal 
so  extraordinary  as  that  which  I have  now  to  state  and  in- 
vestigate. 

The  more  appeals  of  this  sort  which  you  make,  he  said,  the 
more  determined  are  we  that  you  shall  tell  us  how  such  a State 
is  possible:  speak  out  and  at  once. 

Let  me  begin  by  reminding  you  that  we  found  our  way 
hither  in  the  search  after  justice  and  injustice. 

True,  he  replied;  but  what  of  that? 

I was  only  going  to  ask  whether,  if  we  have  discovered  them, 
we  are  to  require  that  the  just  man  should  in  nothing  fail  of 
absolute  justice;  or  may  we  be  satisfied  with  an  approxima- 
tion, and  the  attainment  in  him  of  a higher  degree  of  justice 
than  is  to  be  found  in  other  men  ? 

The  approximation  will  be  enough. 

We  were  inquiring  into  the  nature  of  absolute  justice  and 
into  the  character  of  the  perfectly  just,  and  into  injustice  and 
the  perfectly  unjust,  that  we  might  have  an  ideal.  We  were  to 
. look  at  these  in  order  that  we  might  judge  of  our  own  happi- 
ness and  unhappiness  according  to  the  standard  which  they 
exhibited  and  the  degree  in  which  we  resembled  them,  but  not 
with  any  view  of  showing  that  they  could  exist  in  fact. 

True,  he  said. 

Would  a painter  be  any  the  worse  because,  after  having  de- 

* Reading  <TTpayyevofJi€V(^. 


i66 


PLATO 


I 


lineated  with  consummate  art  an  ideal  of  a perfectly  beautiful 
man,  he  was  unable  to  show  that  any  such  man  could  ever  have 
existed  ? 

He  would  be  none  the  worse. 

Well,  and  were  we  not  creating  an  ideal  of  a perfect  State? 

To  be  sure. 

And  is  our  theory  a worse  theory  because  we  are  unable  to 
prove  the  possibility  of  a ci^y  being  ordered  in  the  manner  de- 
scribed ? ^ V 

Surely  not,  he  replied. 

That  is  the  truth,  I said.  > But  if,  at  your  request,  I am  to  try 
and  show  how  and  under  what  conditions  the  possibility  is 
highest,  I must  ask  you,  having  this  in  view,  to  repeat  your 
former  admissions. 

What  admissions? 

I want  to  know  whether  ideals  are  ever  fully  realized  in  lan- 
guage? Does  not  the  word  express  more  than  the  fact,  and 
must  not  the  actual,  whatever  a man  may  think,  always,  in  the 
nature  of  things,  fall  short  of  the  truth  ? What  do  you  say  ? 

' I agree. 

Then  you  must  not  insist  on  my  proving  that  the  actual  State 
will  in  every  respect  coincide  with  the  ideal:  if  we  are  only 
able  to  discgver  how  a city  may  be  governed  nearly  as  we  pro- 
posed, yqp  will  admit  that  we  have  discovered  the  possibility 
which  you  demand ; and  will  be  contented.  I am  sure  that  I 
should  be  contented — will  not  you  ? 

Yes,  I will 

Let  me  next  endeavor  to  show  what  is  that  fault  in  States 
which  is  the  cause  of  their  present  maladministration,  and  what 
is  the  least  change  which  will  enable  a State  to  pass  into  the 
truer  form ; and  let  the  change,  if  possible,  be  of  one  thing  only, 
or,  if  not,  of  two;  at  any  rate,  let  the  changes  be  as  few  and 
slight  as  possible. 

Certainly,  he  replied. 

I think,  I said,  that  there  might  be  a reform  of  the  State  if 
only  one  change  were  made,  which  is  not  a slight  or  easy  though 
still  a possible  one. 

What  is  it?  he  said. 

Now  then,  I said,  I go  to  meet  that  which  I liken  to  the  great- 
est of  the  waves ; yet  shall  the  word  be  spoken,  even  though  tlie 


THE  REPUBLIC  167 

wave  break  and  drown  me  in  laughter  and  dishonor;  and  do 
you  mark  my  words. 

Proceed. 

I said : Until  philosophers  are  kings,  or  the  kings  and 
princes  of  this  world  have  the  spirit  and  power  of  philosophy, 
and  political  greatness  and  wisdom  meet  in  one,  and  those  com- 
moner natures  who  pursue  either  to  the  exclusion  of  the  other 
are  compelled  to  stand  aside,  cities  will  never  have  rest  from 
their  evils — no,  nor  the  human  race,  as  I believe — and  then 
only  will  this  our  State  have  a possibility  of  life  and  behold 
the  light  of  day.’'  Such  was  the  thought,  my  dear  Glaucon, 
which  I would  fain  have  uttered  if  it  had  not  seemed  too  ex- 
travagant ; for  to  be  convinced  that  in  no  other  State  can  there 
be  happiness  private  or  public  is  indeed  a hard  thing. 

Socrates,  what  do  you  mean?  I would  have  you  consider 
that  the  word  which  you  have  uttered  is  one  at  which  numerous 
persons,  and  very  respectable  persons  too,  in  a figure  pulling 
off  their  coats  all  in  a moment,  and  seizing  any  weapon  that 
comes  to  hand,  will  run  at  you  might  and  main,  before  you 
know  where  you  are,  intending  to  do  heaven  knows  what ; and 
if  you  don’t  prepare  an  answer,  and  put  yourself  in  motion,  you 
will  be  ‘‘  pared  by  their  fine  wits,”  and  no  mistake. 

You  got  me  into  the  scrape,  I said. 

And  I was  quite  right;  however,  I will  do  all  I can  to  get 
you  out  of  it ; but  I can  only  give  you  good-will  and  good  ad- 
vice, and,  perhaps,  I may  be  able  to  fit  answers  to  your  ques- 
tions better  than  another — that  is  all.  And  now,  having  such 
an  auxiliary,  you  must  do  your  best  to  show  the  unbelievers 
that  you  are  right. 

I ought  to  try,  I said,  since  you  offer  me  such  invaluable  as- 
sistance. And  I think  that,  if  there  is  to  be  a chance  of  our 
escaping,  we  must  explain  to  them  whom  we  mean  when  we 
say  that  philosophers  are  to  rule  in  the  State ; then  we  shall  be 
able  to  defend  ourselves : There  will  be  discovered  to  be  some 
natures  who  ought  to  study  philosophy  and  to  be  leaders  in  the 
State ; and  others  who  are  not  born  to  be  philosophers,  and  are 
meant  to  be  followers  rather  than  leaders. 

Then  now  for  a definition,  he  said. 

Follow  me,  I said,  and  I hope  that  I may  in  some  way  or 
other  be  able  to  give  you  a satisfactory  explanation. 


i68 


PLATO 


Proceed. 

I dare  say  that  you  remember,  and  therefore  I need  not  re- 
mind you,  that  a lover,  if  he  is  worthy  of  the  name,  ought  to 
show  his  love,  not  to  some  one  part  of  that  which  he  loves,  but 
to  the  whole. 

I really  do  nc^t  understand,  and  therefore  beg  of  you  to  assist 
my  memory. 

Another  person,  I said,  might  fairly  reply  as  you  do;  but  a 
man  of  pleasure  like  yourself  ought  to  know  that  all  who  are 
in  the  flower  of  youth  do  somehow  or  other  raise  a pang  or 
emotion  in  a lover’s  breast,  and  are  thought  by  him  to  be 
worthy  of  his  affectionate  regards.  Is  not  this  a way  which 
you  have  with  the  fair : one  has  a snub  nose,  and  you  praise  his 
charming  face ; the  hook-nose  of  another  has,  you  say,  a royal 
look ; while  he  who  is  neither  snub  nor  hooked  has  the  grace  of 
regularity:  the  dark  visage  is  manly,  the  fair  are  children  of 
the  gods ; and  as  to  the  sweet  “ honey-pale,”  as  they  are  called, 
what  is  the  very  name  but  the  invention  of  a lover  who  talks 
in  diminutives,  and  is  not  averse  to  paleness  if  appearing  on  the 
cheek  of  youth  ? In  a word,  there  is  no  excuse  which  you  will 
not  make,  and  nothing  which  you  will  not  say,  in  order  not  to 
lose  a single  flower  that  blooms  in  the  spring-time  of  youth. 

If  you  make  me  an  authority  in  matters  of  love,  for  the  sake 
of  the  argument,  I assent. 

And  what  do  you  say  of  lovers  of  wine?  Do  you  not  see 
them  doing  the  same  ? They  are  glad  of  any  pretext  of  drink- 
ing any  wine. 

Very  good. 

And  the  same  is  true  of  ambitious  men ; if  they  cannot  com- 
mand an  army,  they  are  willing  to  command  a file ; and  if  they 
cannot  be  honored  by  really  great  and  important  persons,  they 
are  glad  to  be  honored  by  lesser  and  meaner  people — ^but  honor 
of  some  kind  they  must  have. 

Exactly. 

Once  more  let  me  ask:  Does  he  who  desires  any  class  of 
goods,  desire  the  whole  class  or  a part  only  ? 

The  whole. 

And  may  we  not  say  of  the  philosopher  that  he  is  a lover, 
not  of  a part  of  wisdom  only,  but  of  the  whole? 

Yes,  of  the  whole. 


THE  REPUBLIC 


i6g 

And  he  who  dislikes  learning,  especially  in  youth,  when  he 
has  no  power  of  judging  what  is  good  and  wtiat  is  not,  such 
a one  we  maintain  not  to  be  a philosopher  or  a lover  of  knowl- 
edge, just  as  he  who  refuses  his  food  is  not  hungry,  and  may 
be  said  to  have  a bad  appetite  and  not  a good  one? 

Very  true,  he  said. 

Whereas  he  who  has  a taste  for  every  sort  ox  knowledge  and 
who  is  curious  to  learn  and  is  never  satisfied,  may  be  justly 
termed  a philosopher  ? Am  I not  right  ? 

Glaucon  said:  If  curiosity  makes  a philosopher,  you  will 
find  many  a strange  being  will  have  a title  to  the  name.  All 
the  lovers  of  sights  have  a delight  in  learning,  and  must  there- 
fore be  included.  Musical  amateurs,  too,  are  a folk  strangely 
out  of  place  among  philosophers,  for  they  are  the  last  persons 
in  the  world  who  would  come  to  anything  like  a philosophical 
discussion,  if  they  could  help,  while  they  run  about  at  the  Dio- 
nysiac  festivals  as  if  they  had  let  out  their  ears  to  hear  every 
chorus ; whether  the  performance  is  in  town  or  country — that 
makes  no  difference — ^they  are  there.  Now  are  we  to  maintain 
that  all  these  and  any  who  have  similar  tastes,  as  well  as  the 
professors  of  quite  minor  arts*  are  philosophers? 

Certainly  not,  I replied ; they  are  only  an  imitation. 

He  said:  Who  then  are  the  true  philosophers? 

Those,  I said,  who  are  lovers  of  the  vision  of  truth. 

That  is  also  good,  he  said ; but  I should  like  to  know  what 
you  mean? 

To  another,  I replied,  I might  have  a difficulty  in  explaining; 
but  I am  sure  that  you  will  admit  a proposition  which  I am 
about  to  make. 

What  is  the  proposition? 

That  since  bear'  • the  opposite  of  ugliness,  they  are  two? 

Certainly.  * 

And  inasmuch  as  tney  are  two,  each  of  them  is  one? 

True  again. 

And  of  just  and  unjust,  good  and  evil,  and  of  every  other 
class,  the  same  remark  holds:  taken  singly,  each  of  them  is 
one;  but  from  the  various  combinations  of  them  with  actions 
and  things  and  with  one  another,  they  are  seen  in  all  sorts  of 
lights  and  appear  many? 

Verv  true. 


170 


PLATO 


And  this  is'^the  distinction  which  I draw  between  the  sight- 
loving,  art-loving,  practical  class  and  those  of  whom  I am 
speaking,  and  who  are  alone  worthy  of  the  name  of  philoso- 
phers. 

How  do  you  distinguish  them?  he  said. 

The  lovers  of  sounds  and  sights,  I replied,  are,  as  I conceive, 
fond  of  fine  tones  and  colors  and  forms  and  all  the  artificial 
products  that  are  made  out  of  them,  but  their  minds  are  in- 
capable of  seeing  or  loving  absolute  beauty. 

True,  he  replied. 

Few  are  they  who  are  able  to  attain  to  the  sight  of  this. 

Very  true. 

And  he  who,  having  a sense  of  beautiful  things  has  no  sense 
of  absolute  beauty,  or  who,  if  another  lead  him  to  a knowledge 
of  that  beauty  is  unable  to  follow — of  such  a one  I ask,  Is  he 
awake  or  in  a dream  only  ? Reflect : is  not  the  dreamer,  sleep- 
ing or  waking,  one  who  likens  dissimilar  things,  who  puts  the 
copy  in  the  place  of  the  real  object? 

I should  certainly  say  that  such  a one  was  dreaming. 

But  take  the  case  of  the  other,  who  recognizes  the  existence 
of  absolute  beauty  and  is  able  to  distinguish  the  idea  from  the 
objects  which  participate  in  the  idea,  neither  putting  the  objects 
in  the  place  of  the  idea  nor  the  idea  in  the  place  of  the  objects — 
is  he  a dreamer,  or  is  he  awake  ? 

He  is  wide  awake. 

And  may  we  not  say  that  the  mind  of  the  one  who  knows 
has  knowledge,  and  that  the  mind  of  the  other,  who  opines 
only,  has  opinion  ? 

Certainly. 

But  suppose  that  the  latter  should  quarrel  with  us  and  dis- 
pute our  statement,  can  we  administer  any  soothing  cordial  or 
advice  to  him,  without  revealing  to  him  that  there  is  sad  dis- 
order in  his  wits? 

We  must  certainly  offer  him  some  good  advice,  he  replied. 

Come,  then,  and  let  us  think  ^f  something  to  say  to  him. 
Shall  we  begin  by  assuring  him  that  he  is  welcy>me  to  any 
knowledge  which  he  may  have,  and  that  we  are  rejoiced  at  his 
having  it?  But  we  should  lik^  to  ask  him  a question:  Does 
he  who  has  knowledge  know  something  or  nothing?  (You 
must  answer  for  him). 


THE  REPUBLIC 


171 

I answer  that  he  knows  something. 

Something  that  is  or  is  not  ? 

Something  that  is;  for  how  can  that  which  is  not  ever  be 
known  ? 

And  are  we  assured^  after  looking  at  the  matter  from  many 
points  of  view,  that  absolute  being  is^Cr  may^be  absolutely 
known,  but  that  the  utterly'^  non-existent  is  utterly  unknown  ? 

Nothing  can  be  more  certain. 

Good.  3But  if  there  be  anything  which  is  of  such  a nature 
as  to  be  and  not  to  be,  that  will  have  a place  intermediate  be- 
tween pure  being  and  the  absolute  negation  of  being? 

Yes,  between  them. 

And,  as  knowledge  corresponded  to  being  and  ignorance  of 
necessity  to  not-being,  for  that  intermediate  between  being  and 
not-being  there  has  to  be  discovered  a corresponding  intermedi- 
ate between  ignorance  and  knowledge,  if  there  be  such  ? 

" Certainly. 

^Do  we  admit  the  existence  of  opinion? 

t Undoubtedly. 

^As  being  th^ame  with  knowledge,  or  another  faculty? 

Another  faculty. 

-^Then  opinion  and  knowledge  have  to  do  with  different  kinds 
of  matter  corresponding  to  this  difference  of  faculties? 

Yes. 

^And  knowledge  is  relative  to  being  and  knows  being.  But 
before  I proceed  further  I will  make  a division. 

-What  division? 

'I  will  begin  by  placing  faculties  in  a class  by  themselves: 
they  are  powers  in  us,  and  in  all  other  things,  by  which  we 
do  as  we  do.  Sight  and  hearing,  for  example,  I should  call 
faculties.  Have  I clearly  explained  the  class  which  I mean? 

Yes,  I quite  understand. 

Then  let  me  tell  you  my  view  about  them.  I do  not  see  them, 
and  therefore  the  distinctions  of  figure,  color,  and  the  like, 
which  enable  me  to  discern  the  differences  of  some  things,  do 
not  apply  to  them.  In  speaking  of  a faculty  I think  only  of 
its  sphere  and  its  result ; and  that  which  has  the  same  sphere 
and  the  same  result  I call  the  same  faculty,  but  that  which  has 
another  sphere  and  another  result  I call  different.  Would  that 
be  your  way  of  speaking? 


172 


PLATO 


Yes. 

And  will  you  be  so  very  good  as  to  answer  one  more  ques- 
tion ? Would  you  say  that  knowledge  is  a faculty,  or  in  what 
class  would  you  place  it? 

Certainly  knowledge  is  a faculty,  and  the  mightiest  of  all 
faculties. 

And  is  opinion  also  a faculty? 

Certainly,  he  said ; for  opinion  is  that  with  which  we  are  able 
to  form  an  opinion. 

And  yet  you  were  acknowledging  a little  while  ago  that 
knowledge  is  not  the  same  as  opinion  ? 

Why,  yes,  he  said : how  can  any  reasonable  being  ever  iden- 
tify that  which  is  infallible  with  that  which  errs  ? 

An  excellent  answer,  proving,  I said,  that  we  are  quite  con- 
scious of  a distinction  between  them. 

Yes. 

Then  knowledge  and  opinion  having  distinct  powers  have 
also  distinct  spheres  or  subject-matters? 

That  is  certain. 

Being  is  the  sphere  or  subject-matter  of  knowledge,  and 
knowledge  is  to  know  the  nature  of  being? 

Yes. 

And  opinion  is  to  have  an  opinion  ? 

Yes. 

And  do  we  know  what  we  opine?  or  is  the  subject-matter 
of  opinion  the  same  as  fhe  subject-matter  of  knowledge? 

Nay,  he  replied,  that  has  been  already  disproven;  if  differ- 
ence in  faculty  implies  difference  in  the  sphere  or  subject-mat- 
ter, and  if,  as  we  were  saying,  opinion  and  knowledge  are  dis- 
tinct faculties,  then  the  sphere  of  knowledge  and  of  opinion 
cannot  be  the  same. 

Then  if  being  is  the  subject-matter  of  knowledge,  something 
else  must  be  the  subject-matter  of  opinion? 

Yes,  something  else. 

Well,  then,  is  not-being  the  subject-matter  of  opinion?  or, 
rather,  how  can  there  be  an  opinion  at  all  about  not-being? 
Reflect : when  a man  has  an  opinion,  has  he  not  an  opinion  about 
something  ? Can  he  have  an  opinion  which  is  an  opinion  about 
nothing? 

Impossible. 


THE  REPUBLIC 


173 

He  who  has  an  opinion  has  an  opinion  about  some  one 
thing  ? 

Yes. 

And  not-being  is  not  one  thing,  but,  properly  speaking,  noth- 
ing? 

True. 

Of  not-being,  ignorance  was  assumed  to  be  the  necessary 
correlative ; of  being,  knowledge  ? 

True,  he  said. 

Then  opinion  is  not  concerned  either  with  being  or  with 
not-being  ? 

Not  with  either. 

And  can  therefore  neither  be  ignorance  nor  knowledge? 

That  seems  to  be  true. 

But  is  opinion  to  be  sought  without  and  beyond  either  of 
them,  in  a greater  clearness  than  knowledge,  or  in  a greater 
darkness  than  ignorance? 

In  neither. 

Then  I suppose  that  opinion  appears  to  you  to  be  darker  than 
knowledge,  but  lighter  than  ignorance? 

Both ; and  in  no  small  degree. 

And  also  to  be  within  and  between  them? 

Yes. 

Then  you  would  infer  that  opinion  is  intermediate? 

No  question. 

But  were  we  not  saying  before,  that  if  anything  appeared 
to  be  of  a sort  which  is  and  is  not  at  the  same  time,  that  sort 
of  thing  would  appear  also  to  lie  in  the  interval  between  pure 
being  and  absolute  not-being;  and  that  the  corresponding  fac- 
ulty is  neither  knowledge  nor  ignorance,  but  will  be  found  in 
the  interval  between  them  ? 

True. 

And  in  that  interval  there  has  now  been  discovered  some- 
thing which  we  call  opinion  ? 

There  has. 

Then  what  remains  to  be  discovered  is  the  object  which  par- 
takes equally  of  the  nature  of  being  and  not-being,  and  cannot 
rightly  be  termed  either,  pure  and  simple ; this  unknown  term, 
when  discovered,  we  may  truly  call  the  subject  of  opinion, 
and  assign  each  to  their  proper  faculty — the  extremes  to  the 


174 


PLATO 


faculties  of  the  extremes  and  the  mean  to  the  faculty  of  the 
mean. 

True. 

This  being  premised,  I would  ask  the  gentleman  who  is  of 
opinion  that  there  is  no  absolute  or  unchangeable  idea  of  beauty 
— in  whose  opinion  the  beautiful  is  the  manifold — he,  I say, 
your  lover  of  beautiful  sights,  who  cannot  bear  to  be  told  that 
the  beautiful  is  one,  and  the  just  is  one,  or  that  anything  is 
one — to  him  I would  appeal,  saying.  Will  you  be  so  very  kind, 
sir,  as  to  tell  us  whether,  of  all  these  beautiful  things,  there 
is  one  which  will  not  be  found  ugly;  or  of  the  just,  which  will 
not  be  found  unjust;  or  of  the  holy,  which  will  not  also  be  un- 
holy? 

No,  he  replied;  the  beautiful  will  in  some  point  of  view  be 
found  ugly ; and  the  same  is  true  of  the  rest. 

And  may  not  the  many  which  are  doubles  be  also  halves  ? — 
doubles,  that  is,  of  one  thing,  and  halves  of  another? 

Quite  true. 

And  things  great  and  small,  heavy  and  light,  as  they  are 
termed,  will  not  be  denoted  by  these  any  more  than  by  the  oppo- 
site names? 

True;  both  these  and  the  opposite  names  will  always  attach 
to  all  of  them. 

And  can  any  one  of  those  many  things  which  are  called  by 
particular  names  be  said  to  be  this  rather  than  not  to  be  this? 

He  replied:  They  are  like  the  punning  riddles  which  are 
asked  at  feasts  or  the  children’s  puzzle  about  the  eunuch  aim- 
ing at  the  bat,  with  what  he  hit  him,  as  they  say  in  the  puzzle, 
and  upon  what  the  bat  was  sitting.  The  individual  objects 
of  which  I am  speaking  are  also  a riddle,  and  have  a double 
sense:  nor  can  you  fix  them  in  your  mind,  either  as  being  or 
not-being,  or  both,  or  neither. 

Then  what  will  you  do  with  them?  I said.  Can  they  have 
a better  place  than  between  being  and  not-being?  For  they 
are  clearly  not  in  greater  darkness  or  negation  than  not-being, 
or  more  full  of  light  and  existence  than  being. 

That  is  quite  true,  he  said.  ^ 

Thus  then  we  seem  to  have  discovered  that  the  mafiy  ideas 
which  the  multitude  entertain  about  the  beautiful  and  al^t 
all  other  things  are  tossing  about  in  some  region  which  is  half- 
way between  pure  being  and  pure  not-being? 


THE  REPUBLIC 


I7S 


We  have. 

Yes;  and  we  had  before  agreed  that  anything  of  this  kind 
which  we  might  find  was  to  be  described  as  matter  of  opinion, 
and  not  as  matter  of  knowledge;  being  the  intermediate  flux 
which  is  caught  and  detained  by  the  intermediate  faculty. 

Quite  true. 

Then  those  who  see  the  many  beautiful,  and  who  yet  neither 
see  absolute  beauty,  nor  can  follow  any  guide  who  points  the 
way  thither;  who  see  the  many  just,  and  not  absolute  justice, 
and  the  like— such  persons  may  be  said  to  have  opinion  but 
not  knowledge?  ^ 

That  is  certain. 

But  those  who  see  the  absolute  and  eternal  and  Ixiunutabie 
may  be  said  to  know,  and  not  to  have  opinion  only? 

Neither  can  that  be  denied. 

The.noa^.iove  the  subject^  of  knowledge,  the 

other  those  of  opinion^?  The  latter  are  :i<e  same^  as  I dare  say 
you  will  remember,  who  listened  to  s^eet  soiinds  and  gazed 
upon  fair  colors,  but  would  not  tolerate^ffl^'e^stence  of  abso- 
lute beauty. 

Yes,  I remember. 

Shall  we  then  be  guilty  of  any  impropriety  in  calling  them 
lovei3  of  opinion  rather  than  lovers  of  wisdom,  and  will  they 
be Vei^^  angry  with  us  for  thus  describing  them  ? 

I shall  tell  them  not  to  be  angry ; no  man  should  be  angry 
at  what  is  true. 

But  those  who  love  the  truth  in  each  thing  are  to  be  called 
lovers  of  wisdom  and  not  lovers  of  opinion. 

Assuredly^ 


Classics.  VoL  31 — 12 


BOOK  Vi 

THE  PHILOSOPHY  OF  GOVERNMENT 


Socrates,  Geaucon 

gB  thus,  Gkucon,  after  the  argument  has  gone  a weary 
7^,;’  :\vay,  the  Irue  and  the  false  philosophers  have  at  length 
in  view. 

- ■■^'*®rnot  tliiolc,  he  said,  that  the  way  could  have  been  short- 

ened. 

I suppose  not,  1 .'aid;  and  yeti  believe  that  we  might  have 
had  a better  view  of  L’'*h  of  them  if  the  discussion  could  have 
been  confined  to  this  o-i  subject  and  if  there  were  not  mar  / 
other  questions  awaiting  us,  which  he  who  desires  to  see  in 
what  respect  the  life  of  the  just  differs  from  that  of  the  unju.t 
must  consider. 

And  what  is  the  next  question?  he  asked. 

Surely,  I said,  the  one  which  follows  next  in  order.  Inas- 
much as  philosophers  only  are  able  to  grasp  the  eternal  and  un- 
changeable, and  those  who  wander  in  the  region  of  the  many 
and  variable  are  not  philosophers,  I must  ask  you  which  of  the 
two  classes  should  be  the  rulers  of  our  State? 

And  how  can  we  rightly  answer  that  question? 

Whichever  of  the  two  are  best  able  to  guard  the  laws  and 
institutions  of  our  State— let  them  be  our  guardians. 

Very  good. 

Neither,  I said,  can  there  be  any  question  that  the  guardian 
who  is  to  keep  anything  should  have  eyes  rather  than  no  eyes? 

There  can  be  no  question  of  that.  ^ ^ 

And  are  not  those  who  are  verily  and  indeed  wanting  in  the 
knowledge  of  the  true  being  of  each  thing,  and  who  have  in 
their  souls  no  clear  pattern,  and  are  unable  as  with  a painter's 
eye  to  look  at  the  absolute  truth  and  to  that  original  to  repair, 

176 


THE  REPUBLIC 


177 


^nd  having  perfect  vision  of  the  other  world  to  order  the  laws 
about  beauty,  goodness,  justice  in  this,  if  not  already  ordered, 
and  to  guard  and  preserve  the  order  of  them — are  not  such 
persons,  I ask,  simply  blind? 

Truly,  he  replied,  they  are  much  in  that  condition. 

And  shall  they  be  our  guardians  when  there  are  others  who, 
besides  being  their  equals  in  experience  and  falling  short  of 
them  in  no  particular  of  virtue,  also  know  the  very  truth  of 
each  thing? 

There  can  be  no  reason,  he  said,  for  rejecting  those  who  have 
this  greatest  of  all  great  qualities ; they  must  always  have  the 
first  place  unless  they  fail  in  some  other  respect. 

Suppose,  then,  I said,  that  we  determine  how  far  they  can 
unite  this  and  the  other  excellences. 

By  all  means. 

In  the  first  place,  as  we  began  by  observing,  the  nature  of 
the  philosopher . has  to  be  ascertained.  We  must  come  to  an 
understanding  about  him,  and,  when  we  have  done  so,  then, 
if  I am  not  mistaken,  we  shall  also  acknowledge  that  such  a 
union  of  qualities  is  possible,  and  that  those  in  whom  they  are 
united,  and  those  only,  should  be  rulers  in  the  State. 

What  do  you  mean? 

Let  us  suppose  that  philosophical  minds  always  love  knowl- 
edge of  a sort*\vhich  shows  them  the  eternal  nature  not  varying 
from  generation  and  corruption. 

Agreed.  ^ 

And  further,  I said,  let  us  agree  that  they  are  lovers  of  all 
true  being;  there  is  no  part  whether  greater  or  less,  or  more 
or  less  honorable,  which  they  are  willing  to  renounce;  as  we 
said  before  of  the  lover  and  the  man  of  ambition. 

True. 

And  if  they  are  to  be  what  we  were  describing,  is  there  not 
another  quality  which  they  should  also  possess  ? 

What  quality? 

Truthfulness:  they  will  never  intentionally  receive  into  their 
minds  falsehood,  which  is  their  detestation,  and  they  will  love 
the  truth. 

Yes,  that  may  be  safely  affirmed  of  them. 

May  be/’  my  friend,  I replied,  is  not  the  word ; say  rather, 
**  must  be  affirmed : ” for  he  whose  nature  is  amorous  of  any- 


178 


PLATO 


thing  cannot  help  loving  all  that  belongs  or  is  akin  to  the  object 
of  his  affections. 

Right,  he  said. 

And  is  there  an3rthing  more  akin  to  wisdom  than  truth  ? 

How  can  there  be? 

Can  the  same  nature  be  a lover  of  wisdom  and  a lover  of 
falsehood  ? 

Never. 

The  true  lover  of  learning  then  must  from  his  earliest  youth, 
as  far  as  in  him  lies,  desire  all  truth? 

Assuredly. 

But  then  again,  as  we  know  by  experience,  he  whose  desires 
are  strong  in  one  direction  will  have  them  weaker  in  others; 
they  will  be  like  a stream  which  has  been  drawn  off  into  an- 
other channel. 

True. 

He  whose  desires  are  drawn  toward  knowledge  in  every  form 
will  be  absorbed  in  the  pleasures  of  the  soul,  and  will  hardly 
feel  bodily  pleasure — I mean,  if  he  be  a true  philosopher  and 
not  a sham  one. 

That  is  most  certain. 

Such  a one  is  sure  to  be  temperate  and  the  reverse  of  covet- 
ous; for  the  motives  which  make  another  man  desirous  of 
having  and  spending,  have  no  place  in  his  charafter. 

Very  true. 

Another  criterion  of  the  philosophical  nature  has  also  to  be 
considered. 

What  is  that? 

There  should  be  no  secret  comer  of  illiberality ; nothing  can 
be  more  antagonistic  than  meanness  to  a soul  which  is  ever 
longing  after  the  whole  of  things  both  divine  and  human. 

Most  true,  he  replied. 

Then  how  can  he  who  has  magnificence  of  mind  and  is  the 
spectator  of  all  time  and  all  existence,  think  much  of  human 
life? 

He  cannot. 

Or  can  such  a one  account  death  fearful  ? 

No,  indeed. 

Then  the  cowardly  and  mean  nature  has  no  part  in  true 
philosophy? 


THE  REPUBLIC 


179 


Certainly  not. 

Or  again:  can  he  who  is  harmoniously  constituted,  who  is 
not  covetous  or  mean,  or  a boaster,  or  a coward — can  he,  I say, 
ever  be  unjust  or  hard  in  his  dealings.? 

Impossible. 

Then  you  will  soon  observe  whether  a man  is  just  and  gentle, 
or  rude  and  unsociable ; these  are  the  signs  which  distinguish 
even  in  youth  the  philosophical  nature  from  the  unphilosophi- 
cal. 

True. 

There  is  another  point  which  should  be  remarked. 

What  point? 

V/hether  he  has  or  has  not  a pleasure  in  learning ; for  no  one 
\yiri  love  that  which  gives  him  pain,  and  in  which  after  much 
toil  he  makes  little  progres?. 

►;  Certainly  not. 

And  again,  if  he  is  forgetful  and  retains  nothing 
learns,  will  he  not  be  an  empty  vessel  ? 
g^^’That  is  certain. 

■ Laboring  in  vain,  he  must  end  , , i’ 4^^  ^ 

ess^cupation?  Jf'lUiug  hmself and  h.s  fruit- 

'Yes. 

LThfn  a -f ^ 

' ^nnot  be  ranked  amongy|enuine 

irtof...  that  th&  philosophef  should 

^miosopnaft  natures ; we  must  insT  ™ 

^ av#" a good<.m,emory  ? 

**'t!»jtainly;.  ^ t Sfc 

And  once  more,  the  inharmonious  an5 
cwily  tend  to  disproportion  ? 

Undoubtedly. 

And  do  yqu'consider  truth  to  be  akin 
disproportion? 

To  proportion. 

Then,  besides  other  qualities,  we  must  try  to  find  a naturallv 
well-proportioned  and  gracious  mind,  which  will  move  soon- 

*^*Cer'taiL^°'^^^^  everything.  ^ 

, and  do  not  all  these  qualities,  which  we  have  been 
ig.  go  t°p^^ther,  and  are  they  not,  in  a manner,  nec- 
which  IS  to  have  a full  and  perfect  participation 


mly  nature  can 


to  proportion  or  to 


i8o 


PLATO 


i 


words  he  is 


They  are  absolutely  necessary,  he  replied. 

And  must  not  that  be  a blameless  study  which  he  only  can 
pursue  who  has  the  gift  of  a good  memory,  and  is  quick  to 
learn — ^noble,  gracious,  the  friend  of  truth,  justice,  courage, 
temperance,  who  are  his  kindred  ? 

The  god  of  jealousy  himself,  he  said,  could  find  no  fault 
with  such  a study. 

And  to  men  like  him,  I said,  when  perfected  by  years  and 
education,  and  to  these  only  you  will  intrust  the  State. 

Here  Adeimantus  interposed  and  said : To  these  statements, 
Socrates,  no  one  can  offer  a reply;  but  when  you  talk  in  this 
way,  a'  strange  feeling  passes  over  the  minds  of  your  hearers : 
They  fancy  that  they  are  led  astray  a little  at  each  step  in  the 
argument,  owing  to  their  own  want  of  skill  in  asking  and  an- 
swering questions;  these  littles  jicftimulate,  and  at  tbe  end  of 
the  -i^iscussion  they  are  found  to  have  sustained  a mighty  over-  i 
their  former  notions  appear  to  be  turned  upside 
unskilful  players  of'  draughts  are  at  lasti  shut  > 
fill  adversaries  and  have  no  piece  to  move^ 
jt  up  at  last;  for  they  have  notb4 

[which  words  are  the  counters; 

P^ore  the  right.  The  observation*" 

^ them.sr^^PLv-OCCUrrine 


ugh  in>  

V ^ th^^^the  votaries 

as  a part  ol^d^^B?/®''^  st»dyt^ifeg^.lyjn,ig)^ 
most  of  them  beclI^^rLffe  maturer  years, 

and  that  those  who  may  be  fonsider^fh 

“ wS'"  '"y  «"«)'  wh,chyoff*r. 

your  opinion.  ’ should  like  to  know  what  is 

?h»  -hay  arlpuite  right 

erase  from  evil  until  philosophers'rule  ta"thm'  'a'*** 

r h^  f"  - “ 

in  a parable.  ’ ^ <^an  only 

Yes,  Socrates;  and  that  is  a way  of  soeakmrr  f u- 
are  not  at  all  accustomed,  I suppose.  ^ “ 


the  republic 


il8i 


s— IS  opinion 
jSf^‘-!®®ver  learned  the 


I perceive,  I said,  that  you  are  vastly  amused  at  havina 
plunged  me  into  such  a hopeless  discussion;  but  now  hear  thf 
parable,  and  then  you  will  be  still  more  amused  at  the  meae-re 
ness  of  my  imagination : for  tne  manner  in  which  the  best  men 
are  treated  in  their  own  S^tes  is  so  grievous  that  no  single 
thing  on  earth  is  comparable  (o  it;  and  therefore,  if  I am^to 
plead  their  cause,  I must  hsj^etrecourag  to  fiction,  and  put  to- 
a figure  made  up  of  ^anj^  things,  like  the  fabulous 
,iiA»,«^oats  and  stags  foun^.in  pictures.  Imae- 

a ship  in^ch  there  is  a'captain  who  is  taller 
any  o||p,rew^bu^  j^e  is  a little  deaf  and 
knowledge  of  navigation 
is«'n|i«a*)rs  "are  quarrelling  m**’ 


anc 
h^s 

is  not  mil? 
other  about 
right  to  steer, 
tion  and  cartn^ 

^^11-iMrther  asii^rt  that  and 

to  cut  in  pieces 

abQut  the  cap^aij^^^®^  wha.s^^'fe  contrary.  They  throng 
to  th'^  fShd  hini  to  commit  the  helm 

preferred  they  do  not  prevail,  but  others  are 

and  'havh^bem,  they  kill  the  others  or  throw  them  overboard, 
drink  h^st  chained  up  the  noble  captain’s  senses  with 
some  narcotic  drug,  they  mutiny  and  take  possession 
ship  and  make  free  with  the  stores;  thus,  eating  and 
^:dcmg,  they  proceed  on  their  voyage  in  such  manner  as  might 
jik^pected  of  them.  Him  who  is  thuiirpartisan  and  cleverly 
J^s  them  in  their  plot  for  getting  the  sfiip^OP-  . of  the  captain’s 
^^ands  into  their  own  whether  by  force  or  per  luasion,  they  com- 
pliment with  the  name  of  sailor,  pilot,  able  seaman,  and  abuse 
^ the  pother  sort  of  man,  whom  they  call  a good-for-nothing;  but 
that  the  true  pilot  must  pay  attention  to  the  year  and  seasons 
kand  sky  and  stars  and  winds,  and  whatever  else  belongs  to  his 
f art,  if  he  intends  to  be  really  qualified  for  the  command  of  a 
ship,  and  that  he  must  and  will  be  the  steerer,  whether  other 
people  like  or  not — the  possibility  of  this  union  of  authority 
with  the  steerer’s  art  has  never  seriously  entered  into  their 
thoughts  or  been  made  part  of  their  calling.^  Now  in  vessels 
g^ich  are  in  a state  of  mutiny  and  by  sailors  who  are  mutineers, 

* Or,  applviner  ottw?  5e  Kv^epvrjcrei  to  the  mutineers,  “ But  only  understandine  r«’»’aiovTa?] 
he  [the  mutinous  pilot]  must  rule  in  spite  of  other  people,  never  considering:  that 
' ^there  is  an  art  of  command  which  may  be  practised  in  combination  with  the  pilot’s  art.’* 


PLATO 


1S2 


^ go  to  the  doors 
told  a lie — 
^^^e  be  rich  or 

g'XXl 


how  will  the  true  pilot  be  regarded  ? Will  he  not  be  called  by 
them  a prater,  a star-gazer,  a good-for-nothing? 

Of  course,  said  Adeimantus. 

Then  you  will  hardly  need,  I said,  to  hear  the  interpretation 
of  the  figure,  which  describes  thg  ljue  philosopher  in  his  rela- 
tion to  the  State ; for  you  uttder^a^  already. 

Certainly.  ^ p:' 

Then  suppose  you  now  take  l|its  parable  to  the  gentleman 
who  is  surprised  at  finding  tha';  philosophers  have  no  ho*'''*' 
in  their  cities;  explain  it  to  him,  aptry  to  convinc^bi#* 
their  having  honor  would  be  far^re  extraor^a*^<5>5;3; 

I will.  ^ ir'  ■ r' 

Say  to  him,  that,  in  deeming,  tilt  bes*^tari^  of  ijSIulosophy 
^useless  to  the  rest  of  the  worldy  he  is;^ht  ;^ut  also  tell 
^libute  their  uselessness  tQ,the  fauj  gff  those  who  will 

.^h^pi|ot  should  not 
him  to  by  him — that  is  not 


not  use  tb'  , 
u. i^j,.  oeg  the  sailors  tg^be  comr 


the  order  of  nature;  neithef*^e)Re-“,the 


of  the  rich  ” — the  ingenious  author  of  this 
but  the  truth  is,  that,  when  a man  is  ill,  whethef 
poor,  to  the  physician  he  must  go,  and  he  who  wantS^ 
erned,  to  him  who  is  able  to  govern.  The  ruler 
for  anything  ought  not  to  beg  his  subjects  to  be  ruled 
although  the  present  governors  of  mankind  are  of  a dittHjSj 
stamp;  they  may  be  justly  compared  to  the  mutinous  saiid*’ 
and  the  true  helmsmen  to  those  who  are  called  by  them  gpci 
for-nothings  and  Sta't-gazers. 

Precisely  so,  heisaid. 

For  these  reasons,  and  among  men  like  these,  philosophy, 
the  noblest  pursuit  of  all,  is  not  likely  to  be  much  esteemed  by 
those  of  the  opposite  faction;  not  that  the  greatest  and  most 
lasting  injury  is  done  to  her  by  her  opponents,  but  by  her  own 
professing  followers,  the  same  of  whom  you  suppose  the  ac- 
cuser to  say  that  the  greater  number  of  them  are  arrant  rogues, 
and  the  best  are  useless ; in  which  opinion  I agreed. 

Yes. 

And  the  reason  why  the  good  are  useless  has  now  been  ex- 
plained ? 

True. 

Then  shall  we  proceed  to  show  that  the  corruption  of  the 


THE  REPUBLIC  183 

majority  is  also  unavoidable,  and  that  this  is  not  to  be  laid  to 
tlie  charge  of  philosophy  any  more  than  the  other? 

By  all  means. 

And  let  us  ask  and  answer  in  turn,  first  going  back  to  the 
description  of  the  gentle  and  noble  nature.  Truth,  as  you  will 
remember,  was  his  leader,  whom  he  followed  always  and  in  all 
things ; failing  in  this,  he  was  an  impostor,  and  had  no  part  or 
lot  in  true  philosophy. 

Yes,  that  was  said. 

Well,  and  is  not  this  one  quality,  to  mention  no  others,  greatly 
at  variance  witn  present  notions  of  him? 

Certainly,  he  said. 

And  have  we  not  a right  to  say  in  his  defence,  that  the  true 
lover  of  knowledge  is  always  striving  after  being — that  is  his 
nature ; he  will  not  rest  in  the  multiplicity  of  individuals  which 
is  an  appearance  only,  but  will  go  on — the  keen  edge  will  not 
be  blunted,  nor  the  force  of  his  desire  abate  until  he  have  at- 
tained the  knowledge  of  the  true  nature  of  every  essence  by  a 
sympathetic  and  kindred  power  in  the  soul,  and  by  that  power 
drawing  near  and  mingling  and  becoming  incorporate  with 
very  being,  haying  begotten  mind  and  truth,  he  will  have  knowl- 
edge and  will  live  and  grow  truly,  and  then,  and  not  till  then, 
will  he  cease  from  his  travail. 

Nothing,  he  said,  can  be  more  just  than  such  a description 
of  him. 

And  will  the  love  of  a lie  be  any  part  of  a philosopher’s 
nature?  Will  he  not  utterly  hate  a lie? 

He  will. 

And  when  truth  is  the  captain,  we  cannot  suspect  any  evil 
of  the  band  which  he  leads? 

Impossible. 

Justice  and  health  of  mind  will  be  of  the  company,  and  tem- 
perance will  follow  after? 

True,  he  replied. 

Neither  is  there  any  reason  why  I should  again  set  in  array 
the  philosopher’s  virtues,  as  you  will  doubtless  remember  that 
courage,  magnificence,  apprehension,  memory,  were  his  natural 
gifts.  And  you  objected  that,  although  no  one  could  deny 
what  I then  said,  still,  if  you  leave  words  and  look  at  facts, 
the  persons  who  are  thus  described  are  some  of  them  manifestly 


184 


PLATO 


useless,  and  the  greater  number  utterly  depraved,  we  were  then 
led  to  inquire  into  the  grounds  of  these  accusations,  and  have 
now  arrived  at  the  point  of  asking  why  are  the  majority  bad, 
which  question  of  necessity  brought  us  back  to  the  examination 
and  definition  of  the  true  philosopher. 

Exactly. 

And  we  have  next  to  consider  the  corruptions  of  the  philo- 
sophic nature,  why  so  many  are  spoiled  and  so  few  escape  spoil- 
ing— I am  speaking  of  those  who  were  said  to  be  useless  but 
not  wicked — and,  when  we  have  done  with  them,  we  will  speak 
of  the  imitators  of  philosophy,  what  manner  of  men  are  they 
who  aspire  after  a profession  which  is  above  them  and  of  which 
they  are  unworthy,  and  then,  by  their  manifold  inconsistencies, 
bring  upon  philosophy  and  upon  all  philosophers  that  universal 
reprobation  of  which  we  speak. 

What  are  these  corruptions  ? he  said. 

I will  see  if  I can  explain  them  to  you.  Everyone  will  admit 
that  a nature  having  in  perfection  all  the  qualities  which  we  re- 
quired in  a philosopher  is  a rare  plant  which  is  seldom  seen 
among  men  ? 

Rare  indeed. 

And  what  numberless  and  powerful  causes  tend  to  destroy 
these  rare  natures! 

What  causes? 

In  the  first  place  there  are  their  own  virtues,  their  courage, 
temperance,  and  the  rest  of  them,  every  one  of  which  praise- 
worthy qualities  (and  this  is  a most  singular  circumstance) 
destroys  and  distracts  from  philosophy  the  soul  which  is  the 
possessor  of  them. 

That  is  very  singular,  he  replied. 

Then  there  are  all  the  ordinary  goods  of  life — beauty,  wealth, 
strength,  rank,  and  great  connections  in  the  State — you  under- 
stand the  sort  of  things — these  also  have  a corrupting  and  dis- 
tracting effect. 

f I understand ; but  I should  like  to  know  more  precisely  what 
\^you  mean  about  them. 

Grasp  the  truth  as  a whole,  I said,  and  in  the  right  way ; you 
will  then  have  no  difficulty  in  apprehending  the  preceding  re- 
marks, and  they  will  no  longer  appear  strange  to  you. 

And  how  am  I to  do  so  ? he  asked. 


THE  REPUBLIC 


185 


Why,  I said,  we  know  that  all  germs  or  seeds,  whether  vege- 
table or  animal,  when  they  fail  to  meet  with  proper  nutriment, 
or  climate,  or  soil,  in  proportion  to  their  vigor,  are  all  the  more 
sensitive  to  the  want  of  a suitable  environment,  for  evil  is  a 
greater  enemy  to  what  is  good  than  to  what  is  not. 

Very  true. 

There  is  reason  in  supposing  that  the  finest  natures,  when 
under  alien  conditions,  receive  more  injury  than  the  inferior, 
because  the  contrast  is  greater. 

Certainly. 

And  may  we  not  say,  Adeimantus,  that  the  most  gifted 
minds,  when  they  are  ill-educated,  become  pre-eminently  bad? 
Do  not  great  crimes  and  the  spirit  of  pure  evil  spring  out  of 
a fulness  of  nature  ruined  by  education  rather  than  from  any 
inferiority,  whereas  weak  natures  are  scarcely  capable  of  any 
very  great  good  or  very  great  evil  ? 

There  I think  that  you  are  right. 

And  our  philosopher  follows  the  same  analogy — ^he  is  like 
a plant  which,  having  proper  nurture,  must  necessarily  grow 
and  mature  into  all  virtue,  but,  if  sown  and  planted  in  an  alien 
soil,  becomes  the  most  noxious  of  all  weeds,  unless  he  be  pre- 
served by  some  divine  power.  Do  you  really  think,  as  people 
so  often  say,  that  our  youth  are  corrupted  by  Sophists,  or  that 
private  teachers  of  the  art  corrupt  them  in  any  degree  worth 
speaking  of?  Are  not  the  public  who  say  these  things  the 
greatest  of  all  Sophists?  And  do  they  not  educate  to  perfec- 
tion young  and  old,  men  and  women  alike,  and  fashion  them 
after  their  own  hearts  ? 

When  is  this  accomplished  ? he  said. 

When  they  meet  together,  and  the  world  sits  down  at  an 
assembly,  or  in  a court  of  law,  or  a theatre,  or  a camp,  or  in  any 
other  popular  resort,  and  there  is  a great  uproar,  and  they 
praise  some  things  which  are  being  said  or  done,  and  blame 
other  things,  equally  exaggerating  both,  shouting  and  clap- 
ping their  hands,  and  the  echo  of  the  rocks  and  the  place  in 
which  they  are  assembled  redoubles  the  sound  of  the  praise  or 
blame — at  such  a time  will  not  a young  man’s  heart,  as  they 
say,  leap  within  him?  Will  any  private  training  enable  him 
to  stand  firm  against  the  overwhelming  flood  of  popular  opin- 
ion? or  will  he  be  carried  away  by  the  stream?  Will  he  not 


i86 


PLATO 


have  the  notions  of  good  and  evil  which  the  public  in  general 
have — he  will  do  as  they  do,  and  as  they  are,  such  will  he  be  ? 

Yes,  Socrates;  necessity  will  compel  him. 

And  yet,  I said,  there  is  a still  greater  necessity,  which  has 
not  been  mentioned. 

What  is  that? 

The  gentle  force  of  attainder,  or  confiscation,  or  death, 
which,  as  you  are  aware,  these  new  Sophists  and  educators, 
who  are  the  public,  apply  when  their  words  are  powerless. 

Indeed  they  do;  and  in  right  good  earnest. 

Now  what  opinion  of  any  other  Sophist,  or  of  any  private 
person,  can  be  expected  to  overcome  in  such  an  unequal  con- 
test? 

None,  he  replied. 

No,  indeed,  I said,  even  to  make  the  attempt  is  a great  piece 
of  folly ; there  neither  is,  nor  has  been,  nor  is  ever  likely  to  be, 
any  different  type  of  character  which  has  had  no  other  train- 
ing in  virtue  but  that  which  is  supplied  by  public  opinion  ^ — 
I speak,  my  friend,  of  human  virtue  only;  what  is  more  than 
human,  as  the  proverb  says,  is  not  included:  for  I would  not 
have  you  ignorant  that,  in  the  present  evil  state  of  govern- 
ments, whatever  is  saved  and  comes  to  good  is  saved  by  the 
power  of  God,  as  we  may  truly  say. 

I quite  assent,  he  replied. 

Then  let  me  crave  your  assent  also  to  a further  observation. 

What  are  you  going  to  say? 

Why,  that  all  those  mercenary  individuals,  whom  the  many 
call  Sophists  and  whom  they  deem  to  be  their  adversaries,  do, 
in  fact,  teach  nothing  but  the  opinion  of  the  many,  that  is  to 
say,  the  opinions  of  their  assemblies ; and  this  is  their  wisdom. 
I might  compare  them  to  a man  who  should  study  the  tempers 
and  desires  of  a mighty  strong  beast  who  is  fed  by  him — he 
would  learn  how  to  approach  and  handle  him,  also  at  what  times 
and  from  what  causes  he  is  dangerous  or  the  reverse,  and  what 
is  the  meaning  of  his  several  cries,  and  by  what  sounds,  when 
another  utters  them,  he  is  soothed  or  infuriated ; and  you  may 
suppose  further,  that  when,  by  continually  attending  upon  him, 
he  has  become  perfect  in  all  this,  he  calls  his  knowledge  wis- 
dom, and  makes  of  it  a system  or  art,  which  he  proceeds  to 

> Or,  taking  irapa  in  another  sense,  “ trained  to  virtue  on  their  principles.’* 


THE  REPUBLIC 


187 


teach,  although  he  has  no  real  notion  of  what  he  means  by  the 
principles  or  passions  of  which  he  is  speaking^  but  calls  this 
honorable  and  that  dishonorable,  or  good  or  evil,  or  just  or 
unjust,  all  in  accordance  with  the  tastes  and  tempers  of  the 
great  brute.  Good  he  pronounces  to  be  that  in  which  the  beast 
delights,  and  evil  to  be  that  which  he  dislikes ; and  he  can  give 
no  other  account  of  them  except  that  the.  just  and  noble  are  the 
necessary,  having  never  himself  seen,  and  having  no  power  of 
explaining  to  others,  the  nature  of  either,  or  the  difference  be- 
tween them,  which  is  immense.  By  heaven,  would  not  such 
a one  be  a rare  educator  ? 

Indeed,  he  would. 

And  in  what  way  does  he  who  thinks  that  wisdom  is  the  dis- 
cernment of  the  tempers  and  tastes  of  the  motley  multitude, 
whether  in  painting  or  in  music,  or,  finally,  in  politics,  differ 
from  him  whom  I have  been  describing?  For  when  a man 
consorts  with  the  many,  and  exhibits  to  them  his  poem  or  other 
work  of  art  or  the  service  which  he  has  done  the  State,  making 
them  his  judges  ^ when  he  is  not  obliged,  the  so-called  necessity 
of  Diomede  will  oblige  him  to  produce  whatever  they  praise. 
And  yet  the  reasons  are  utterly  ludicrous  which  they  give  in 
confirmation  of  their  own  notions  about  the  honorable  and 
good.  Did  you  ever  hear  any  of  them  which  were  not  ? 

No,  nor  am  I likely  to  hear. 

You  recognize  the  truth  of  what  I have  been  saying?  Then 
let  me  ask  you  to  consider  further  whether  the  world  will  ever 
be  induced  to  believe  in  the  existence  of  absolute  beauty  rather 
than  of  the  many  beautiful,  or  of  the  absolute  in  each  kind 
rather  than  of  the  many  in  each  kind? 

Certainly  not. 

Then  the  world  cannot  possibly  be  a philosopher  ? 

Impossible. 

And  therefore  philosophers  must  inevitably  fall  under  the 
censure  of  the  world? 

They  must. 

And  of  individuals  who  consort  with  the  mob  and  seek  to 
please  them  ? 

That  is  evident. 

Then,  do  you  see  any  way  in  which  the  philosopher  can  be 

* Putting  a comma  after  ran/  avayKoivv, 


l88 


PLATO 


preserved  in  his  calling  to  the  end? — ^and  remember  what  we 
were  saying  of  him,  that  he  was  to  have  quickness  and  memory 
and  courage  and  magnificence — ^these  were  admitted  by  us  to 
be  the  true  philosopher’s  gifts. 

Yes. 

Will  not  such  an  one  from  his  early  childhood  be  in  all  things 
first  among  us  all,  especially  if  his  bodily  endowments  are  like 
his  mental  ones? 

Certainly,  he  said. 

And  his  friends  and  fellow-citizens  will  want  to  use  him  as 
he  gets  older  for  their  own  purposes  ? 

No  question. 

Falling  at  his  feet,  they  will  make  requests  to  him  and  do 
him  honor  and  flatter  him,  because  they  want  to  get  into  their 
hands  now  the  power  which  he  will  one  day  possess. 

That  often  happens,  he  said. 

And  what  will  a man  such  as  he  is  be  likely  to  do  under  such 
circumstances,  especially  if  he  be  a citizen  of  a great  city,  rich 
and  noble,  and  a tall,  proper  youth?  Will  he  not  be  full  of 
boundless  aspirations,  and  fancy  himself  able  to  manage  the 
affairs  of  Hellenes  and  of  barbarians,  and  having  got  such  no- 
tions into  his  head  will  he  not  dilate  and  elevate  himself  in  the 
fulness  of  vain  pomp  and  senseless  pride? 

To  be  sure  he  will. 

Now,  when  he  is  in  this  state  of  mind,  if  someone  gently 
comes  to  him  and  tells  him  that  he  is  a fool  and  must  get  under- 
standing, which  can  only  be  got  by  slaving  for  it,  do  you  think 
that,  under  such  adverse  circumstances,  he  will  be  easily  in- 
duced to  listen  ? 

Far  otherwise. 

And  even  if  there  be  someone  who  through  inherent  good- 
ness or  natural  reasonableness  has  had  his  eyes  opened  a little 
and  is  humbled  and  taken  captive  by  philosophy,  how  will  his 
friends  behave  when  they  think  that  they  are  likely  to  lose  the 
advantage  which  they  were  hoping  to  reap  from  his  compan- 
ionship? Will  they  not  do  and  say  anything  to  prevent  him 
from  yielding  to  his  better  nature  and  to  render  his  teacher 
powerless,  using  to  this  end  private  intrigues  as  well  as  public 
prosecutions  ? 

There  can  be  no  doubt  of  it. 


THE  REPUBLIC  189 

And  how  can  one  who  is  thus  circumstanced  ever  become 
a philosopher  ? 

Impossible. 

Then  were  we  not  right  in  saying  that  even  the  very  qualities  . 
which  make  a man  a philosopher,  may,  if  he  be  ill-educated, 
divert  him  from  philosophy,  no  less  than  riches  and  their  ac- 
companiments and  the  other  so-called  goods  of  life  ? 

We  were  quite  right. 

Thus,  my  excellent  friend,  is  brought  about  all  that  ruin  and 
failure  which  I have  been  describing  of  the  natures  best  adapted 
to  the  best  of  all  pursuits ; they  are  natures  which  we  maintain 
to  be  rare  at  any  time;  this  being  the  class  out  of  which  come 
the  men  who  are  the  authors  of  the  greatest  evil  to  States  and 
individuals ; and  also  of  the  greatest  good  when  the  tide  carries 
them  in  that  direction ; but  a small  man  never  was  the  doer  of 
any  great  thing  either  to  individuals  or  to  States. 

That  is  most  true,  he  said. 

And  so  philosophy  is  left  desolate,  with  her  marriage  rite 
incomplete:  for  her  own  have  fallen  away  and  forsaken  her, 
and  while  they  , are  leading  a false  and  unbecoming  life,  other 
unworthy  persons,  seeing  that  she  has  no  kinsmen  to  be  her 
protectors,  enter  in  and  dishonor  her;  and  fasten  upon  her  the 
reproaches  which,  as  you  say,  her  reprovers  utter,  who  affirm 
of  her  votaries  that  some  are  good  for  nothing,  and  that  the 
greater  number  deserve  the  severest  punishment. 

That  is  certainly  what  people  say. 

Yes;  and  what  else  would  you  expect,  I said,  when  you  think 
of  the  puny  creatures  who,  seeing  this  land  open  to  them — ^a 
land  well  stocked  with  fair  names  and  showy  titles — like  pris- 
oners running  out  of  prison  into  a sanctuary,  take  a leap  out 
of  their  trades  into  philosophy ; those  who  do  so  being  probably 
the  cleverest  hands  at  their  own  miserable  crafts?  For,  al- 
though philosophy  be  in  this  evil  case,  still  there  remains  a dig- 
nity about  her  which  is  not  to  be  found  in  the  arts.  And  many 
are  thus  attracted  by  her  whose  natures  are  imperfect  and  whose 
souls  are  maimed  and  disfigured  by  their  meannesses,  as  their 
bodies  are  by  their  trades  and  crafts.  Is  not  this  unavoidable  ? 

Yes. 

Are  they  not  exactly  like  a bald  little  tinker  who  has  just  got 
out  of  durance  and  come  into  a fortune — he  takes  a bath  and 


190 


PLATO 


puts  on  a new  coat,  and  is  decked  out  as  a bridegroom  going  to 
marry  his  master’s  daughter,  who  is  left  poor  and  desolate? 

A most  exact  parallel. 

What  will  be  the  issue  of  such  marriages?  Will  they  not 
be  vile  and  bastard  ? 

There  can  be  no  question  of  it. 

And  when  persons  who  are  unworthy  of  education  approach 
philosophy  and  make  an  alliance  with  her  who  is  in  a rank  above 
them,  what  sort  of  ideas  and  opinions  are  likely  to  be  gener- 
ated? Will  they  not  be  sophisms  captivating  to  the  ear,^ 
having  nothing  in  them  genuine,  or  worthy  of  or  akin  to  true 
wisdom  ? 

No  doubt,  he  said. 

Then,  Adeimantus,  I said,  the  worthy  disciples  of  philosophy 
will  be  but  a small  remnant:  perchance  some  noble  and  well- 
educated  person,  detained  by  exile  in  her  service,  who  in  the 
absence  of  corrupting  influences  remains  df*voted  to  her;  or 
some  lofty  soul  born  in  a mean  city,  the  politics  of  which  he 
contemns  and  neglects;  and  there  may  be  a gifted  few  who 
leave  the  arts,  which  they  justly  despise,  and  come  to  her;  or 
peradventure  there  are  some  who  are  restrained  by  our  friend 
Theages’s  bridle ; for  everything  in  the  life  of  Theages  con- 
spired to  divert  him  from  philosophy;  but  ill-health  kept  him 
away  from  politics.  My  own  case  of  the  internal  sign  is  hard- 
ly worth  mentioning,  for  rarely,  if  ever,  has  such  a monitor  been 
given  to  any  other  man.  Those  who  belong  to  this  small  class 
have  tasted  how  sweet  and  blessed  a^s^sion,  p]3ilosophy  is, 
and  have'algo'seen'eflouffi’  of  the  tnadness  o(  the  multitude; 
and  they  know  that  no  politician  is  honest,  nor  is  there  any 
champion  of  justice  at  whose  side  they  may  fight  and  be  saved. 
Such  a one  may  be  compared  to  a man  who  has  fallen  among 
wild  beasts — he  will  not  join  in  the  wickedness  of  his  fellows, 
but  neither  is  he  able  singly  to  resist  all  their  fierce  natures,  and 
therefore  seeing  that  he  would  be  of  no  use  to  the  State  or  to 
his  friends,  and  reflecting  that  he  would  have  to  throw  away  his 
life  without  doing  any  good  either  to  himself  or  others,  he  holds 
his  peace,  and  goes  his  own  way.  He  is  like  one  who,  in  the 
storm  of  dust  and  sleet  which  the  driving  wind  hurries  along, 
retires  under  the  shelter  of  a wall ; and  seeing  the  rest  of  man* 

* Or  “ will  they  not  deserve  to  be  called  sophisms  ? ” 


THE  REPUBLIC 


i9l 

kind  full  of  wickedness,  he  is  content,  if  only  he  can  live  his 
own  life  and  be  pure  from  evil  or  unrighteousness,  and  depart 
in  peace  and  good-will,  with  bright  hopes. 

Yes,  he  said,  and  he  will  have  done  a great  work  before  he 
departs. 

A great  work — yes;  but  not  the  greatest,  unless  he  find  a 
State  suitable  to  him ; for  in  a State  which  is  suitable  to  him, 
he  will  have  a larger  growth  and  be  the  saviour  of  his  country, 
as  well  as  of  himself. 

The  causes  why  philosophy  is  in  such  an  evil  name  have 
now  been  sufficiently  explained:  the  injustice  of  the  charges 
against  her  has  been  shown — is  there  anything  more  which  you 
wish  to  say? 

Nothing  more  on  that  subject,  he  replied;  but  I should  like 
to  know  which  of  the  governments  now  existing  is  in  your 
opinion  the  one  adapted  to  her. 

Not  any  of  them,  I said;  and  that  is  precisely  the  accusation 
which  I bring  against  them — not  one  of  them  is  worthy  of  the 
philosophic  nature^  and  hence  that  nature  is  warped  and  es- 
tranged; as  the  exotic  seed  which  is  sown  in  a foreign  land 
becomes  denaturalized,  and  is  wont  to  be  overpowered  and  to 
lose  itself  in  the  new  soil,  even  so  this  growth  of  philosophy, 
instead  of  persisting,  degenerates  and  receives  another  charac- 
ter. But  if  philosophy  ever  finds  in  the  State  that  perfec- 
tion which  she  herself  is,  then  will  be  seen  that  she  is  in  truth 
divine,  and  that  all  other  things,  whether  natures  of  men'^or 
institutions,  are  but  human;  and  now,  I know  that  you  are 
going  to  ask.  What  that  State  is : 

No,  he  said;  there  you  are  wrong,  for  I was  going  to  ask 
another  question — whether  it  is  the  State  of  which  we  are  the 
founders  and  inventors,  or  some  other? 

Yes,  I replied,  ours  in  most  respects ; but  you  may  remember 
my  saying  before,  that  some  living  authority  would  always  be 
required  in  the  State  having  the  same  idea  of  the  constitution 
which  guided  you  when  as  legislator  you  were  laying  down  the 
laws. 

That  was  said,  he  replied. 

Yes,  but  not  in  a satisfactory  manner;  you  frightened  us  by 
interposing  objections,  which  certainly  showed  that  the  dis- 
cussion would  be  long  and  difficult ; and  what  still  remains  is 
the  reverse  of  easy. 


193 


PLATO 


What  is  there  remaining? 

The  question  how  the  study  of  philosophy  may  be  so  ordered 
as  hot  to  be  the  ruin  of  the  State:  All  great  attempts  are  at- 
tended with  risk ; “ hard  is  the  good,”  as  men  say. 

Still,  he  said,  let  the  point  be  cleared  up,  and  the  inquiry 
will  then  be  complete. 

I shall  not  be  hindered,  I said,  by  any  want  of  will,  but,  if 
at  all,  by  a want  of  power : my  zeal  you  may  see  for  yourselves ; 
and  please  to  remark  in  what  I am  about  to  say  how  boldly  and 
unhesitatingly  I declare  that  States  should  pursue  philosophy, 
not  as  they  do  now,  but  in  a different  spirit. 

In  what  manner? 

At  present,  I said,  the  students  of  philosophy  are  quite  young; 
beginning  when  they  are  hardly  past  childhood,  they  devote 
only  the  time  saved  from  money-making  and  housekeeping  to 
such  pursuits ; and  even  those  of  them  who  are  reputed  to  have 
most  of  the  philosophic  spirit,  when  they  come  within  sight  of 
the  great  difficulty  of  the  subject,  I mean  dialectic,  take  them- 
selves off.  In  after  life,  when  invited  by  someone  else,  they 
may,  perhaps,  go  and  hear  a lecture,  and  about  this  they  make 
much  ado,  for  philosophy  is  not  considered  by  them  to  be  their 
proper  business : at  last,  when  they  grow  old,  in  most  cases  they 
are  extinguished  more  truly  than  Heracleitus’s  sun,  inasmuch 
as  they  never  light  up  again.' 

But  what  ought  to  be  their  course? 

Just  the  opposite.  In  childhood  and  youth  their  study,  and 
what  philosophy  they  learn,  should  be  suited  to  their  tender 
years:  during  this  period  while  they  are  growing  up  toward 
manhood,  the  chief  and  special  care  should  be  given  to  their 
bodies  that  they  may  have  them  to  use  in  the  service  of  philoso- 
phy ; as  life  advances  and  the  intellect  begins  to  mature,  let  them 
increase  the  gymnastics  of  the  soul ; but  when  the  strength  of 
our  citizens  fails  and  is  past  civil  and  military  duties,  then  let 
them  range  at  will  and  engage  in  no  serious  labor,  as  we  intend 
them  to  live  happily  here,  and  to  crown  this  life  with  a similar 
happiness  in  another. 

How  truly  in  earnest  you  are,  Socrates ! he  said ; I am  sure 
of  that ; and  yet  most  of  your  hearers,  if  I am  nof  mistaken, 

> Heracleitus  said  that  the  sun  was  extinguished  every  evening  and  relighted  every 
morning. 


THE  REPUBLIC 


193 

are  likely  to  be  still  more  earnest  in  their  opposition  to  you, 
and  will  never  be  convinced ; Thrasymachus  least  of  all. 

Do  not  make  a quarrel,  I said,  between  Thrasymachus  and 
me,  who  have  recently  become  friends,  although,  indeed,  we 
Vere  never  enemies;  for  I shall  go  on  striving  to  the  utmost 
until  I either  convert  him  and  other  men,  or  do  something  which 
may  profit  them  against  the  day  when  they  live  again,  and  hold 
the  like  discourse  in  another  state  of  existence. 

You  are  speaking  of  a time  which  is  not  very  near. 

Rather,  I replied,  of  a time  which  is  in  comparison 

with  eternity.  Nevertheless,  I do  not  wonder  that  the  many 
refuse  to  believe;  for  they  have  never  seen  that  of  which  we 
are  now  speaking  realized;  they  have  seen  only  a conven- 
tional imitation  of  philosophy,  consisting  of  words  artificially 
brought  together,  not  like  these  of  ours  having  a natural  unity. 
But  a human  being  who  in  word  and  work  is  perfectly  moulded, 
as  far  as  he  cah  be,  into  the  proportion  and  likeness  of  virtue — 
such  a man  ruling  in  a city  which  bears  the  same  image,  they 
have  never  yet  seen,  neither  one  nor  many  of  them — do  you 
think  that  they  ever  did  ? 

No  indeed. 

No,  my  friend,  and  they  have  seldom,  if  ever,  heard  free  and 
noble  sentiments;  such  as  men  utter  when  they  are  earnestly 
and  by  every  means  in  their  power  seeking  after  truth  for  the 
sake  of  knowledge,  while  they  look  coldly  on  the  subtleties 
of  controversy,  of  which  the  end  is  opinion  and  strife,  whether 
they  meet  with  them  in  the  courts  of  law  or  in  society. 

They  are  strangers,  he  said,  to  the  words  of  which  you 
speak. 

And  this  was  what  we  foresaw,  and  this  was  the  reason  why 
truth  forced  us  to  admit,  not  without  fear  and  hesitation,  that 
neither  cities  nor  States  nor  individuals  will  ever  attain  perfec- 
tion until  the  small  class  of  philosophers  whom  we  termed  use- 
less but  not  corrupt  are  providentially  compelled,  whether  they 
will  01  not,  to  take  care  of  the  State,  and  until  a like  necessity 
be  laid  on  the  State  to  obey  them ; ^ or  until  kings,  or  if  not 
kings,  the  sons  of  kings  or  princes,  are  divinely  inspired  with 
a true  love  of  true  philosophy.  That  either  or  both  of  these 
alternatives  are  impossible,  I see  no  reason  to  affirm : if  they 

* Reading:  icaTTjxdy  or  KanjKooit. 


194 


PLATO 


were  so,  we  might  indeed  be  justly  ridiculed  as  dreamers  and 
visionaries.  Am  I not  right? 

Quite  right. 

If  then,  in  the  countless  ages  of  the  past,  or  at  the  present 
hour  in  some  foreign  clime  which  is  far  away  and  beyond  our 
ken,  the  perfected  philosopher  is  or  has  been  or  hereafter  shall 
be  compelled  by  a superior  power  to  have  the  charge  of  the 
State,  we  are  ready  to  assert  to  the  death,  that  this  our  consti- 
tution has  been,  and  is — yea,  and  will  be  whenever  the  muse  of 
philosophy  is  queen.  There  is  no  impossibility  in  all  this ; that 
there  is  a difficulty,  we  acknowledge  ourselves. 

My  opinion  agrees  with  yours,  he  said. 

But  do  you  mean  to  say  that  this  is  not  the  opinion  of  the 
multitude  ? 

I should  imagine  not,  he  replied. 

0 my  friends,  I said,  do  not  attack  the  multitude : they  will 
change  their  minds,  if,  not  in  an  aggressive  spirit,  but  gently 
and  with  the  view  of  soothing  them  and  removing  their  dislike 
of  over-education,  you  show  them  your  philosophers  as  they 
really  are  and  describe  as  you  were  just  now  doing  their  charac- 
ter and  profession,  and  then  mankind  will  see  that  he  of  whoifi 
you  are  speaking  is  not  such  as  they  supposed — if  they  view 
him  in  this  new  lights  they  will  surely  change  their  notion  of 
him,  and  answer  in  another  strain.^  Who  can  be  at  enmity 
with  one  who  loves  him,  who  that  is  himself  gentle  and  free 
from  envy  will  be  jealous  of  one  in  whom  there  is  no  jealousy? 
Nay,  let  me  answer  for  you,  that  in  a few  this  harsh  temper  may 
be  found,  but  not  in  the  majority  of  mankind. 

1 quite  agree  with  you,  he  said. 

And  do  you  not  also  think,  as  I do,  that  the  harsh  feeling 
which  the  many  entertain  toward  philosophy  originates  in  the 
pretenders,  who  rush  in  uninvited,  and  are  always  abusing 
them,  and  finding  fault  with  them,  who  make  persons  instead 
of  things  the  theme  of  their  conversation  ? and  nothing  can  be 
more  unbecoming  in  philosophers  than  this. 

It  is  most  unbecoming. 

For  he,  Adeimantus,  whose  mind  is  fixed  upon  true  being, 

1 Reading  ^ koX  iav  ovru)  Otiaptai  without  a question,  and  aKAoiav  roi:  or,  retaining  the 
question  and  taking  aWoiav  S6(ap  in  a new  sense : Do  you  mean  to  say  really  that,  view- 
ing him  in  this  light,  they  will  be  of  another  mind  from  yours,  and  answer  in  another 
Strain  ? 


THE  REPUBLIC 


m 


has  surely  no  time  to  look  down  upon  the  affairs  of  earth,  or 
to  be  filled  with  malice  and  envy,  contending  against  men ; his 
eye  is  ever  directed  toward  things  fixed  and  immutable,  which 
he  sees  neither  injuring  nor  injured  by  one  another,  but  all  in 
order  moving  according  to  reason;  these  he  imitates,  and  to 
these  he  will,  as  far  as  he  can,  conform  himselfo  Can  a man 
help  imitating  that  with  which  he  holds  reverential  converse  ? 

Impossible. 

And  the  philosopher  holding  converse  with  the  divine  order, 
becomes  orderly  and  divine,  as  far  as  the  nature  of  man  allows ; 
but  like  everyone  else,  he  will  suffer  from  detraction. 

Of  course. 

And  if  a necessity  be  laid  upon  him  of  fashioning,  not  only 
himself,  but  human  nature  generally,  whether  in  States  or  indi- 
viduals, into  that  which  he  beholds  elsewhere,  will  be,  think 
you,  be  an  unskilful  artificer  of  justice,  temperance,  and  every 
civil  virtue  ? 

Anything  but  unskilful. 

And  if  the  world  perceives  that  what  we  are  saying  about 
him  is  the  truth,  will  they  be  angry  with  philosophy?  Will 
they  disbelieve  us,  ’^hen  we  tell  them  that  no  State  can  be  happy 
which  is  not  designed  by  artists  who  imitate  the  heavenly  pat- 
tern? 

They  will  not  be  angry  if  they  understand,  he  said.  But  how 
will  they  draw  out  the  plan  of  which  you  are  speaking  ? 

They  will  begin  by  taking  the  State  and  the  manners  of  men, 
from  which,  as  from  a tablet,  they  will  rub  out  the  picture,  and 
leave  a clean  surface.  This  is  no  easy  task.  But  whether  easy 
or  not,  herein  will  lie  the  difference  between  them  and  every 
other  legislator — they  will  have  nothing  to  do  either  with  in- 
dividual or  State,  and  will  inscribe  no  laws,  until  they  have 
either  found,  or  themselves  made,  a clean  surface. 

They  will  be  very  right,  he  said. 

Having  effected  this,  they  will  proceed  to  trace  an  outline 
of  the  constitution  ? 

No  doubt. 

And  when  they  are  filling  in  the  work,  as  I conceive,  they  will 
often  turn  their  eyes  upward  and  downward : I mean  that  they 
will  first  look  at  absolute  justice  and  beauty  and  temperance, 
and  again  at  the  human  copy ; and  will  mingle  and  ternper  the 


196 


PLATO 


various  elements  of  life  into  the  image  of  a man ; and  this  they 
will  conceive  according  to  that  other  image,  which^  when  exist- 
ing among  men,  Homer  calls  the  form  and  likeness  of  God. 

Very  true,  he  said. 

And  one  feature  they  will  erase,  and  another  they  will  put 
in,  until  they  have  made  the  ways  of  men,  as  far  as  possible, 
agreeable  to  the  ways  of  God  ? 

Indeed,  he  said,  in  no  way  could  they  make  a fairer  picture. 

And  now,  I said,  are  we  beginning  to  persuade  those  whom 
you  described  as  rushing  at  us  with  might  and  main,  that  the 
painter  of  constitutions  is  such  a one  as  we  were  praising;  at 
whom  they  were  so  very  indignant  because  to  his  hands  we 
committed  the  State;  and  are  they  growing  a little  calmer  at 
what  they  have  just  heard? 

Much  calmer,  if  there  is  any  sense  in  them. 

Why,  where  can  they  still  find  any  ground  for  objection? 
Will  they  doubt  that  the  philosopher  is  a lover  of  truth  and 
being? 

They  would  not  be  so  unreasonable. 

Or  that  his  nature,  being  such  as  we  have  delineated,  is  akin 
to  the  highest  good  ? 

Neither  can  they  doubt  this. 

But  again,  will  they  tell  us  that  such  a nature,  placed  under 
favorable  circumstances,  will  not  be  perfectly  good  and  wise  if 
any  ever  was?  Or  will  they  prefer  those  whom  we  have  re- 
jected? 

Surely  not. 

Then  will  they  still  be  angry  at  our  saying,  that,  until  philoso- 
phers bear  rule,  States  and  individuals  will  have  no  rest  from 
evil,  nor  will  this  our  imaginary  State  ever  be  realized? 

I think  that  they  will  be  less  angry. 

Shall  we  assume  that  they  are  not  only  less  angry  but  quite 
gentle,  and  that  they  have  been  converted  and  for  very  shame, 
if  for  no  other  reason,  cannot  refuse  to  come  to  terms  ? 

By  all  means,  he  said. 

Then  let  us  suppose  that  the  reconciliation  has  been  effected. 
Will  anyone  deny  the  other  point,  that  there  may  be  sons  of 
kings  or  princes  who  are  by  nature  philosophers? 

Surely  no  man,  he  said. 

And  when  they  have  come  into  being  will  anyone  say  that 


THE  REPUBLIC 


197 


they  must  of  necessity  be  destroyed;  that  they  can  hardly  be 
saved  is  not  denied  even  by  us ; but  that  in  the  whole  course 
of  ages  no  single  one  of  them  can  escape — who  will  venture  to 
affirm  this  ? 

Who  indeed! 

But,  said  I,  one  is  enough ; let  there  be  one  man  who  has  a 
city  obedient  to  his  will,  and  he  might  bring  into  existence  the 
ideal  polity  about  which  the  world  is  so  incredulous. 

Yes,  one  is  enough. 


The  ruler  may  impose  the  laws  and  institutions  which  we 
have  been  describing,  and  the  citizens  may  possibly  be  willing 
to  obey  them  ? 

Certainly. 

And  that  others  should  approve,  of  what  we  approve,  is  no 
miracle  or  impossibility  ? 

I think  not. 

But  we  have  sufficiently  shown,  in  what  has  preceded,  that 
all  this,  if  only  possible,  is  assuredly  for  the  best. 

We  have. 

And  now  we  say  not  only  that  our  laws,  if  they  could  be  en- 
acted, would  be  for  the  best,  but  also  that  the  enactment  of 
them,  though  difficult,  is  not  impossible. 

Very  good. 

And  so  with  pain  and  toil  we  have  reached  the  end  of  one 
subject,  but  more  remains  to  be  discussed;  how  and  by  what 
studies  and  pursuits  will  the  saviours  of  the  constitution  be 
created,  and  at  what  ages  are  they  to  apply  themselves  to  their 
several  studies? 


Certainly. 


I omitted  the  troublesome  business  of  the  possession  of 
women,  and  the  procreation  of  children,  and  the  appointment 
of  the  rulers,  because  I knew  that  the  perfect  State  would  be 
eyed  with  jealousy  and  was  difficult  of  attainment;  but  that 
piece  of  cleverness  was  not  of  much  service  to  me,  for  I had 
to  discuss  them  all  the  same.  The  women  and  children  are 
now  disposed  of,  but  the  other  question  of  the  rulers  must  be 
investigated  from  the  very  beginning.  We  were  saying,  as 
you  will  remember,  that  they  were  to  be  lovers  of  their  country, 
tried  by  the  test  of  pleasures  and  pains,  and  neither  in  hard- 
ships, nor  in  dangers,  nor  at  any  other  critical  moment  were  to 


198 


PLATO 


lose  their  patriotism — ^he  was  to  be  rejected  who  failed,  but  he 
who  always  came  forth  pure,  like  gold  tried  in  the  refiner’s  fire, 
was  to  be  made  a ruler,  and  to  receive  honors  and  rewards  in 
life  and  after  death.  This  was  the  sort  of  thing  which  was 
being  said,  and  then  the  argument  turned  aside  and  veiled  her 
face ; not  liking  to  stir  the  question  which  has  now  arisen. 

I perfectly  remember,  he  said. 

Yes,  my  friend,  I said,  and  I then  shrank  from  hazarding 
the  bold  word;  but  now  let  me  dare  to  say — that  the  perfect 
guardian  must  be  a philosopher. 

Yes,  he  said,  let  that  be  affirmed. 

And  do  not  suppose  that  there  will  be  many  of  them ; for  the 
gifts  which  were  deemed  by  us  to  be  essential  rarely  grow  to- 
gether ; they  are  mostly  found  in  shreds  and  patches. 

What  do  you  mean?  he  said. 

You  are  aware,  I replied,  that  quick  intelligence,  memory, 
sagacity,  cleverness,  and  similar  qualities,  do  not  often  grow 
together,  and  that  persons  who  possess  them  and  are  at  the  same 
time  high-spirited  and  magnanimous  are  not  so  constituted 
by  nature  as  to  live  orderly  and  in  a peaceful  and  settled  man- 
ner; they  are  driven  any  way  by  their  impulses,  and  all  solid 
principle  goes  out  of  them. 

. Very  true,  he  said. 

On  the  other  hand,  those  steadfast  natures  which  can  better 
be  depended  upon,  which  in  a battle  are  impregnable  to  fear 
and  immovable,  are  equally  immovable  when  there  is  anything 
to  be  learned ; they  are  always  in  a torpid  state,  and  are  apt  to 
yawn  and  go  to  sleep  over  any  intellectual  toil. 

Quite  true. 

And  yet  we  were  saying  that  both  qualities  were  necessary  in 
those  to  whom  the  higher  education  is  to  be  imparted,  and  who 
are  to  share  in  any  office  or  command. 

Certainly,  he  said. 

And  will  they  be  a class  which  is  rarely  found  ? 

Yes,  indeed. 

Then  the  aspirant  must  not  only  be  tested  in  those  labors 
and  dangers  and  pleasures  which  we  mentioned  before,  but 
there  is  another  kind  of  probation  which  we  did  not  mention— 
he  must  be  exercised  also  in  many  kinds  of  knowledge,  to  see 
whether  the  soul  will  be  able  to  endure  the  highest  of  all,  or  will 
faint  under  them,  as  in  any  other  studies  and  exercises. 


THE  REPUBLIC 


199 


Yes,  he  said,  you  are  quite  right  in  testing  them.  But  what 
do  you  mean  by  the  highest  of  all  knowledge? 

You  may  remember,  I said,  that  we  divided  the  soul  into 
'^hree  parts;  and  distinguished  the  several  natures  of  justice, 
temperance,  courage,  and  wisdom? 

Indeed,  he  said,  if  I had  forgotten,  I should  not  deserve  to 
hear  more. 

And  do  you  remember  the  word  of  caution  which  preceded 
the  discussion  of  them? 

To  what  do  you  refer? 

We  were  saying,  if  I am  not  mistaken,  that  he  who  wanted 
to  see  them  in  their  perfect  beauty  must  take  a longer  and  more 
circuitous  way,  at  the  end  of  which  they  would  appear ; but  that 
we  could  add  on  a popular  exposition  of  them  on  a level  with 
the  discussion  which  had  preceded.  And  you  replied  that 
such  an  exposition  would  be  enough  for  you,  and  so  the  in- 
quiry was  continued  in  what  to  me  seemed  to  be  a very  inac- 
curate manner;  whether  you  were  satisfied  or  not,  it  is  for 
you  to  say. 

Yes,  he  said,  I thought  and  the  others  thought  that  you  gave 
us  a fair  measure  of  truth. 

But,  my  friend,  I said,  a measure  of  such  things  which  in 
any  degree  falls  short  of  the  whole  truth  is  not  fair  measure; 
for  nothing  imperfect  is  the  measure  of  anything,  although  per- 
sons are  too  apt  to  be  contented  and  think  that  they  need  search 
no  further. 

Not  an  uncommon  case  when  people  are  indolent. 

Yes,  I said ; and  there  cannot  be  any  worse  fault  in  a guardian 
of  the  State  and  of  the  laws. 

True. 

The  guardian  then,  I said,  must  be  required  to  take  the  longer 
circuit,  and  toil  at  learning  as  well  as  at  gymnastics,  or  he  will 
never  reach  the  highest  knowledge  of  all  which,  as  we  were 
just  now  saying,  is  his  proper  calling. 

What,  he  said,  is  there  a knowledge  still  higher  than  this — 
higher  than  justice  and  the  other  virtues? 

Yes,  I said,  there  is.  And  of  the  virtues  too  we  must  behold 
if  outline  merely,  as  at  present — nothing  short  of  the  most 
■ed  picture  should  satisfy  us.  When  little  things  are  elab- 

ed  with  an  infinity  of  pains,  in  order  that  they  may  appear 
sics.  Vol.  31—13 


aoo 


PLATO 


in  their  full  beauty  and  utmost  clearness,  how  ridiculous  that 
we  should  not  think  the  highest  truths  worthy  of  attaining  the 
highest  accuracy ! 

A right  noble  thought ; ^ but  do  you  suppose  that  we  shall 
refrain  from  asking  you  what  is  this  highest  knowledge? 

Nay,  I said,  ask  if  you  will ; but  I am  certain  that  you  have 
heard  the  answer  many  times,  and  now  you  either  do  not  under- 
stand me  or,  as  I rather  think,  you  are  disposed  to  be  trouble- 
some ; for  you  have  often  been  told  that  the  idea  of  good  is  the 
highest  knowledge,  and  that  all  other  things  become  useful 
and  advantageous  only  by  their  use  of  this.  You  can  hardly  be 
ignorant  that  of  this  I was  about  to  speak,  concerning  which, 
as  you  have  often  heard  me  say,  we  know  so  little ; and,  without 
which,  any  other  knowledge  or  possession  of  any  kind  will 
profit  us  nothing.  Do  you  think  that  the  possession  of  all 
other  things  is  of  any  value  if  we  do  not  possess  the  good  ? or 
the  knowledge  of  all  other  things  if  we  have  no  knowledge  of 
beauty  and  goodness?  ^ — — - — 

Assuredly  not. 

You  are  further  aware  that  most  people  affirm  pleasure  to 
be  the  good,  but  the  finer  sort  of  wits  say  it  is  knowledge? 

Yes. 

And  you  are  aware  too  that  the  latter  cannot  explain  what 
they  mean  by  knowledge,  but  are  obliged  after  all  to  say  knowl- 
edge of  the  good  ? 

How  ridiculous! 

Yes,  I said,  that  they  should  begin  by  reproaching  us  with 
our  ignorance  of  the  good,  and  then  presume  our  knowledge 
of  it — for  the  good  they  define  to  be  knowledge  of  the  good, 
just  as  if  we  understood  them  when  they  use  the  term  “ good  ” 
— this  is  of  course  ridiculous. 

Most  true,  he  said. 

And  those  who  make  pleasure  their  good  are  in  equal  per- 
plexity; for  they  are  compelled  to  admit  that  there  are  bad 
pleasures  as  well  as  good. 

Certainly. 

And  therefore  to  acknowledge  that  bad  and  gt  I — 
same? 

» Or,  separating  icai  tiaXa  from  d^toir,  ‘‘  True,  he  said,  a^  a aoble  thou^ 
iiavoti/jLa  may  be  a gloss. 


THE  REPUBLIC 


201 


True. 

There  can  be  no  doubt  about  the  numerous  difficulties  in 
which  this  question  is  involved. 

There  can  be  none. 

Further,  do  we  not  see  that  many  are  willing  to  do  or  to 
have  or  to  seem  to  be  what  is  just  and  honorable  without  the 
reality ; but  no  one  is  satisfied  with  the  appearance  of  good — 
the  reality  is  what  they  seek ; in  the  case  of  the  good,  appear- 
ance is  despised  by  everyone. 

Very  true,  he  said. 

Of  this  then,  which  every  soul  of  man  pursues  and  makes 
the  end  of  all  his  actions,  having  a presentiment  that  there  is 
such  an  end,  and  yet  hesitating  because  neither  knowing  the 
nature  nor  having  the  same  assurance  of  this  as  of  other  things, 
and  therefore  losing  whatever  good  there  is  in  other  things — 
of  a principle  such  and  so  great  as  this  ought  the  best  men  in 
our  State,  to  whom  everything  is  intrusted,  to  be  in  the  dark- 
ness of  ignorance? 

Certainly  not,  he  said. 

I am  sure,  I said,  that  he  who  does  not  know  how  the  beauti- 
ful and  the  just  are  likewise  good  will  be  but  a sorry  guardian 
of  them ; and  I suspect  that  no  one  who  is  ignorant  of  the  good 
will  have  a true  knowledge  of  them. 

That,  he  said,  is  a shrewd  suspicion  of  yours. 

And  if  we  only  have  a guardian  who  has  this  knowledge,  our 
State  will  be  perfectly  ordered  ? 

Of  course,  he  replied;  but  I wish  that  you  would  tell  me 
whether  you  conceive  this  supreme  principle  of  the  good  to  be 
knowledge  or  pleasure,  or  different  from  either? 

Aye,  I said,  I knew  all  along  that  a fastidious  gentleman  ^ 
like  you..would  not  be  contented  with  the  thoughts  of  other 
people  about  these  matters. 

True,  Socrates;  but  I must  say  that  one  who  like  you  has 
passed  a lifetime  in  the  study  of  philosophy  should  not  be  al- 
ways repeating  the  opinions  of  others,  and  never  telling  his 
own. 

, ' VN11  has  anyone  a right  to  say  positively  what  he  does 

if  ? 

^ V. 

Kokot:  or  avrip  icaAw$,  “I  quite  well  knew  from  the  very  first,  that  you” 


t09 


PLATO 


Not,  he  said,  with  the  assurance  of  positive  certainty;  he  has 
no  right  to  do  that : but  he  may  say  what  he  thinks,  as  a matter 
of  opinion. 

Arid  do  you  not  know,  I said,  that  all  mere  opinions  are  bad, 
and  the  best  of  them  blind?  You  would  not  deny  that  those 
who  have  any  true  notion  without  intelligence  are  only  like 
blind  men  who  feel  their  way  along  the  road  ? 

Very  true. 

And  do  you  wish  to  behold  what  is  blind  and  crooked  and 
base,  when  others  will  tell  you  of  brightness  and  beauty  ? ' 

Still,  I must  implore  you,  Socrates,  said  Glaucon,  not  to  turn 
away  just  as  you  are  reaching  the  goal ; if  you  will  only  give 
such  an  explanation  of  the  good  as  you  have  already  given  of 
justice  and  temperance  and  the  other  virtues,  we  shall  be  sat- 
isfied. 

Yes,  my  friend,  and  I shall  be  at  least  equally  satisfied,  but 
I cannot  help  fearing  that  I shall  fail,  and  that  my  indiscreet 
zeal  will  bring  ridicule  upon  me.  No,  sweet  sirs,  let  us  not 
at  present  ask  what  is  the  actual  nature  of  the  good,  for  to  reach 
what  is  now  in  my  thoughts  would  be  an  effort  too  great  for 
me.  But  of  the  child  of  the  good  who  is  likest  him,  I would 
fain  speak,  if  I could  be  sure  that  you  wished  to  hear — other- 
wise, not. 

By  all  means,  he  said,  tell  us  about  the  child,  and  you  shall 
remain  in  our  debt  for  the  account  of  the  parent. 

I do  indeed  wish,  I replied,  that  I could  pay,  and  you  receive, 
the  account  of  the  parent,  and  not,  as  now,  of  the  offspring 
only ; take,  however,  this  latter  by  way  of  interest,*  and  at  the 
same  time  have  a care  that  I do  not  render  a false  accotmt,  al- 
though I have  no  intention  of  deceiving  you. 

Yes,  we  will  take  all  the  care  that  we  can : proceed. 

Yes,  I said,  but  I must  first  come  to  an  understanding  with 
you,  and  remind  you  of  what  I have  mentioned  in  the  course 
of  this  discussion,  and  at  many  other  times. 

What? 

The  old  story,  that  there  is  many  a beautiful  and  many  a 
good,  and  so  of  other  things  which  we  describe  and  define; 
to  all  of  them  the  term  “ many  ” is  implied. 

True,  he  said. 

^ A play  upon  which  means  both  **  offspring  and  intc.:est.** 


THE  REPUBLIC 


202 


\ 


And  there  is  an  absolute  beauty  and  an  absolute  good,  and 
of  other  things  to  which  the  term  “ many  is  applied  there  is 
an  absolute ; for  they  may  be  brought  under  a single  idea,  which 
is  called  the  essence  of  each. 

Very  true. 

The  many,  as  we  say,  are  seen  but  not  known,  and  the  ideas 
are  known  but  not  seen. 

Exactly. 

And  what  is  the  organ  with  which  we  see  the  visible  things  ? 

The  sight,  he  said. 

And  with  the  hearing,  I said,  we  hear,  and  with  the  other 
senses  perceive  the  other  objects  of  sense? 

True. 

But  have  you  remarked  that  sight  is  by  far  the  most  costly 
and  complex  piece  of  workmanship  which  the  artificer  of  the 
senses  ever  contrived  ? 

No,  I never  have,  he  said. 

Then  reflect : has  the  ear  or  voice  need  of  any  third  or  addi- 
tional nature  in  order  that  the  one  may  be  able  to  bear  and  the 
other  to  be  heard? 

Nothing  of  the  sort. 

No,  indeed,  I replied ; and  the  same  is  true  of  most,  if  not  all, 
the  other  senses — you  would  not  say  that  any  of  them  requires 
such  an  addition? 

Certainly  not. 

But  you  see  that  without  the  addition  of  some  other  nature 
there  is  no  seeing  or  being  seen  ? 

How  do  you  mean? 

Sight  being,  as  I conceive,  in  the  eyes,  and  he  who  has  eyes 
wanting  to  see;  color  being  also  present  in  them,  still  unless 
there  be  a third  nature  specially  adapted  to  the  purpose,  the 
owner  of  the  eyes  will  see  nothing  and  the  colors  will  be  invisi- 
ble. 

Of  what  nature  are  you  speaking? 

Of  that  which  you  term  light,  I replied. 

True,  he  said. 

Noble,  then,  is  the  bond  which  links  together  sight  and  visi- 
bility, and  great  beyond  other  bonds  by  no  small  difference  of 
nature;  for  light  is  their  bond,  and  light  is  no  ignoble  thing? 

Nay,  he  said,  the  reverse  of  ignoble. 


204 


PLATO 


And  which,  I said,  of  the  gods  in  heaven  would  you  say  was 
the  lord  of  this  element?  Whose  is  that  light  which  makes 
the  eye  to  see  perfectly  and  the  visible  to  appear  ? 

You  mean  the  sun,  as  you  and  all  mankind  say. 

May  not  the  relation  of  sight  to  this  deity  be  described  as 
follows  ? 

How? 

Neither  sight  nor  the  eye  in  which  sight  resides  is  the  sun? 

No. 

Yet  of  all  the  organs  of  sense  the  eye  is  the  most  like  the 
sun? 

By  far  the  most  like. 

And  the  power  which  the  eye  possesses  is  a sort  of  effluence 
which  is  dispensed  from  the  sun  ? 

Exactly. 

Then  the  sun  is  not  sight,  but  the  author  of  sight  who  is 
recognized  by  sight? 

True,  he  said. 

And  this  is  he  whom  I call  the  child  of  the  good,  whom  the 
good  begat  in  his  own  likeness,  to  be  in  the  visible  world,  in 
relation  to  sight  and  the  things  of  sight,  what  the  good  is  in  the 
intellectual  world  in  relation  to  mind  and  the  things  of  mind: 

Will  you  be  a little  more  explicit?  he  said. 

Why,  you  know,  I said,  that  the  eyes,  when  a person  directs 
them  toward  objects  on  which  the  light  of  day  is  no  longer 
shining,  but  the  moon  and  stars  only,  see  dimly,  and  are  nearly 
blind ; they  seem  to  have  no  clearness  of  vision  in  them  ? 

Very  true. 

But  when  they  are  directed  toward  objects  on  which  the  sun 
shines,  they  see  clearly  and  there  is  sight  in  them  ? 

Certainly. 

And  the  soul  is  like  the  eye : when  resting  upon  that  on  which 
truth  and  being  shine,  the  soul  perceives  and  understands,  and 
is  radiant  with  intelligence;  but  when  turned  toward  the  twi- 
light of  becoming  and  perishing,  then  she  has  opinion  only, 
and  goes  blinking  about,  and  is  first  of  one  opinion  and  then  of 
another,  and  seems  to  have  no  intelligence  ? 

Just  so. 

Now,  that  which  imparts  truth  to  the  known  and  the  power 
of  knowing  to  the  knower  is  what  I would  have  you  term  the 


THE  REPUBLIC 


205 


idea  of  good,  and  this  you  will  deem  to  be  the  cause  of  science,' 
and  of  truth  in  so  far  as  the  latter  becomes  the  subject  of  knowl- 
edge ; beautiful  too,  as  are  both  truth  and  knowledge,  you  will 
be  right  in  esteeming  this  other  nature  as  more  beautiful  than 
either ; and,  as  in  the  previous  instance,  light  and  sight  may  be 
truly  said  to  be  like  the  sun,  and  yet  not  to  be  the  sun,  so  in  this 
other  sphere,  science  and  truth  may  be  deemed  to  be  like  the 
good,  but  not  the  good;  the  good  has  a place  of  honor  yet 
higher. 

What  a wonder  of  beauty  that  must  be,  he  said,  which  is  the 
author  of  science  and  truth,  and  yet  surpasses  them  in  beauty; 
for  you  surely  cannot  mean  to  say  that  pleasure  is  the  good  ? 

God  forbid,  I replied;  but  may  I ask  you  to  consider  the 
image  in  another  point  of  view  ? 

In  what  point  of  view? 

You  would  say,  would  you  not?  that  the  sun  is  not  only  the 
author  of  visibility  in  all  visible  things,  but  of  generation  and 
nourishment  and  growth,  though  he  himself  is  not  generation? 

Certainly. 

In  like  manner  the  good  may  be  said  to  be  not  only  the  author 
of  knowledge  to  all  things  known,  but  of  their  being  and  es- 
sence, and  yet  the  good  is  not  essence,  but  far  exceeds  essence 
in  dignity  and  power. 

Glaucon  said,  with  a ludicrous  earnestness:  By  the  light  of 
heaven,  how  amazing! 

Yes,  I said,  and  the  exaggeration  may  be  set  down  to  you ; 
for  you  made  me  utter  my  fancies. 

And  pray  continue  to  utter  them ; at  any  rate  let  us  hear  if 
there  is  anything  more  to  be  said  about  the  similitude  of  the 
sun. 

Yes,  I said,  there  is  a great  deal  more. 

Then  omit  nothing,  however  slight. 

I will  do  my  best,  I said ; but  I should  think  that  a great  deal 
will  have  to  be  omitted. 

I hope  not,  he  said. 

You  have  to  imagine,  then,  that  there  are  two  ruling  powers, 
and  that  one  of  them  is  set  over  the  intellectual  world,  the  other 
over  the  visible.  I do  not  say  heaven,  lest  you  should  fancy 
that  I am  playing  upon  the  name  (ovpavo^,  oparo^).  May  1 

* Reading  fiiou/ood* 


2o6 


PLATO 


suppose  that  you  have  this  distinction  of  the  visible  and  intel- 
ligible fixed  in  your  mind  ? 

I have. 

Now  take  a line  which  has  been  cut  into  two  unequal  ^ parts, 
and  divide  each  of  them  again  in  the  same  proportion,  and  sup- 
pose the  two  main  divisions  to  answer,  one  to  the  visible  and 
the  other  to  the  intelligible,  and  then  compare  the  subdivisions 
in  respect  of  their  clearness  and  want  of  clearness,  and  you  will 
find  that  the  first  section  in  the  sphere  of  the  visible  consists  of 
images.  And  by  images  I mean,  in  the  first  place,  shadows, 
and  in  the  second  place,  reflections  in  water  and  in  solid,  smooth 
and  polished  bodies  and  the  like : Do  you  understand  ? 

Yes,  I understand. 

Imagine,  now,  the  other  section,  of  which  this  is  only  the  re- 
semblance, to  include  the  animals  which  we  see,  and  everything 
that  grows  or  is  made. 

Very  good. 

Would  you  not  admit  that  both  the  sections  of  this  division 
have  different  degrees  of  truth,  and  that  the  copy  is  to  the  origi- 
nal as  the  sphere  of  opinion  is  to  the  sphere  of  knowledge  ? 

Most  undoubtedly. 

Next  proceed  to  consider  the  manner  in  which  the  sphere  of 
the  intellectual  is  to  be  divided. 

In  what  manner? 

Thus : There  are  two  subdivisions,  in  the  lower  of  which  the 
soul  uses  the  figures  given  by  the  former  division  as  images ; the 
inquiry  can  only  be  hypothetical,  and  instead  of  going  upward 
to  a principle  descends  to  the  other  end ; in  the  higher  of  the 
two,  the  soul  passes  out  of  hypotheses,  and  goes  up  to  a princi- 
ple which  is  above  hypotheses,  making  no  use  of  images  ^ as 
in  the  former  case,  but  proceeding  only  in  and  through  the  ideas 
themselves. 

I do  not  quite  understand  your  meaning,  he  said. 

Then  I will  try  again ; you  will  understand  me  better  when 
I have  made  some  preliminary  remarks.  You  are  aware  that 
students  of  geometry,  arithmetic,  and  the  kindred  sciences  as- 
sume the  odd,  and  the  even,  and  the  figures,  and  three  kinds  of 
angles,  and  the  like,  in  their  several  branches  of  science ; these 
are  their  hypotheses,  which  they  and  everybody  are  supposed 

^ Reading  avicra.  ^ Reading  Savirep  iKtlvo  €iirip<av. 


THE  REPUBLIC 


207 


to  know,  and  therefore  they  do  not  deign  to  give  any  account 
of  them  either  to  themselves  or  others;  but  they  begin  with 
them,  and  go  on  until  they  arrive  at  last,  and  in  a consistent 
manner,  at  their  conclusion  ? 

Yes,  he  said,  I know. 

And  do  you  not  know  also  that  although  they  make  use  of 
the  visible  forms  and  reason  about  them,  they  are  thinking  not 
of  these,  but  of  the  ideals  which  they  resemble ; not  of  the  figures 
which  they  draw,  but  of  the  absolute  square  and  the  absolute 
diameter,  and  so  on — the  forms  which  they  draw  or  make,  and 
which  have  shadows  and  reflections  in  water  of  their  own,  are 
converted  by  them  into  images,  but  they  are  really  seeking  to 
behold  the  things  themselves,  which  can  only  be  seen  with  the 
eye  of  the  mind? 

That  is  true. 

And  of  this  kind  I spoke  as  the  intelligible,  although  in  the 
search  after  it  the  soul  is  compelled  to  use  hypotheses ; not  as- 
cending to  a first  principle,  because  she  is  unable  to  rise  above 
the  region  of  hypothesis,  but  employing  the  objects  of  which 
the  shadows  below  are  resemblances  in  their  turn  as  images, 
they  having  in  relation  to  the  shadows  and  reflections  of  them  a 
greater  distinctness,  and  therefore  a higher  value. 

I understand,  he  said,  that  you  are  speaking  of  the  province 
of  geometry  and  the  sister  arts. 

And  when  I speak  of  the  other  division  of  the  intelligible, 
you  will  understand  me  to  speak  of  that  other  sort  of  knowledge 
which  reason  herself  attains  by  the  power  of  dialectic,  using 
the  hypotheses  not  as  first  principles,  but  only  as  hypotheses — 
that  is  to  say,  as  steps  and  points  of  departure  into  a world 
which  is  above  hypotheses,  in  order  that  she  may  soar  beyond 
them  to  the  first  principle  of  the  whole;  and  clinging  to  this 
and  then  to  that  which  depends  on  this,  by  successive  steps  she 
descends  again  without  the  aid  of  any  sensible  object,  from 
ideas,  through  ideas,  and  in  ideas  she  ends. 

I understand  you,  he  replied ; not  perfectly,  for  you  seem  to 
me  to  be  describing  a task  which  is  really  tremendous;  but, 
at  any  rate,  I understand  you  to  say  that  knowledge  and  being, 
which  the  science  of  dialectic  contemplates,  are  clearer  than  the 
notions  of  the  arts,  as  they  are  termed,  which  proceed  from  hy- 
potheses only : these  are  also  contemplated  by  the  understand- 


2o8 


PLATO 


ing,  and  not  by  the  senses : yet,  because  they  start  from  hypoth- 
eses and  do  not  ascend  to  a principle,  those  who  contemplate 
them  appear  to  you  not  to  exercise  the  higher  reason  upon  them, 
although  when  a first  principle  is  added  to  them  they  are  cogniz- 
able by  the  higher  reason.  And  the  habit  which  is  concerned 
with  geometry  and  the  cognate  sciences  I suppose  that  you 
would  term  understanding,  and  not  reason,  as  being  intermedi- 
ate between  opinion  and  reason. 

You  have  quite  conceived  my  meaning^  I said ; and  now,  cor- 
responding to  these  four  divisions,  let  there  be  four  faculties 
in  the  soul — reason  answering  to  the  highest,  understanding 
to  the  second,  faith  (or  conviction)  to  the  third,  and  perception 
of  shadows  to  the  last — and  let  there  be  a scale  of  them,  and 
let  us  suppose  that  the  several  faculties  have  clearness  in  the 
same  degree  that  their  objects  have  truth. 

I understand,  he  replied,  and  give  my  assent,  and  accept  your 
arrangem.ent. 


BOOK  VII 

ON  SHADOWS  AND  REALITIES  IN  EDUCATION 


Socrates,  Glaucon 

And  now,  I said,  let  me  show  in  a figure  how  far  our 
nature  is  enlightened  or  unenlightened : Behold ! human 
beings  living  in  an  underground  den,  which  has  a 
mouth  open  toward  the  light  and  reaching  all  along  the  den ; 
here  they  have  been  from  their  childhood,  and  have  their  legs 
and  necks  chained  so  that  they  cannot  move,  and  can  only  see 
before  them,  being  prevented  by  the  chains  from  turning  round 
their  heads.  Above  and  behind  them  a fire  is  blazing  at  a dis- 
tance, and  between  the  fire  and  the  prisoners  there  is  a raised 
way ; and  you  will  see,  if  you  look,  a low  wall  built  along  the 
way,  like  the  screen  which  marionette-players  have  in  front  of 
them,  over  which  they  show  the  puppets. 

I see. 

And  do  you  see,  I said,  men  passing  along  the  wall  carrying 
all  sorts  of  vessels,  and  statues  and  figures  of  animals  made  of 
wood  and  stone  and  various  materials,  which  appear  over  the 
wall  ? Some  of  them  are  talking,  others  silent. 

You  have  shown  me  a strange  image,  and  they  are  strange 
prisoners. 

Like  ourselves,  I replied;  and  they  see  only  their  own 
shadows,  or  the  shadows  of  one  another,  which  the  fire  throws 
on  the  opposite  wall  of  the  cave? 

True,  he  said;  how  could  they  see  anything  but  the  shadows 
if  they  were  never  allowed  to  move  their  heads  ? 

And  of  the  objects  which  are  being  carried  in  like  manner 
they  would  only  see  the  shadows  ? 

Yes,  he  said. 

And  if  they  were  able  to  converse  with  one  another,  would 

209 


210 


PLATO 


they  not  suppose  that  they  were  naming  what  was  actually 
before  them  ? ^ 

Very  true. 

And  suppose  further  that  the  prison  had  an  echo  which  came 
from  the  other  side,  would  they  not  be  sure  to  fancy  when  one 
of  the  passers-by  spoke  that  the  voice  which  they  heard  came 
from  the  passing  shadow  ? 

No  question,  he  replied. 

To  them,  I said,  the  truth  would  be  literally  nothing  but  the 
shadows  of  the  images. 

That  is  certain. 

And  now  look  again,  and  see  what  will  naturally  follow  if 
the  prisoners  are  released  and  disabused  of  their  error.  At 
first,  when  any  of  them  is  liberated  and  compelled  suddenly  to 
stand  up  and  turn  his  neck  round  and  walk  and  look  toward  the 
light,  he  will  suffer  sharp  pains ; the  glare  will  distress  him^  and 
he  will  be  unable  to  see  the  realities  of  which  in  his  former  state 
he  had  seen  the  shadows ; and  then  conceive  someone  saying  to 
him,  that  what  he  saw  before  was  an  illusion,  but  that  now, 
when  he  is  approaching  nearer  to  being  and  his  eye  is  turned 
toward  more  real  existence,  he  has  a clearer  vision — what  will 
be  his  reply  ? And  you  may  further  imagine  that  his  instructor 
is  pointing  to  the  objects  as  they  pass  and  requiring  him  to 
name  them — will  he  not  be  perplexed?  Will  he  not  fancy  that 
the  shadows  which  he  formerly  saw  are  truer  than  the  objects 
which  are  now  shown  to  him  ? 

Far  truer. 

And  if  he  is  compelled  to  look  straight  at  the  light,  will  he 
not  have  a pain  in  his  eyes  which  will  make  him  turn  away  to 
take  refuge  in  the  objects  of  vision  which  he  can  see,  and  which 
he  will  conceive  to  be  in  reality  clearer  than  the  things  which 
are  now  being  shown  to  him  ? 

True,  he  said. 

And  suppose  once  more,  that  he  is  reluctantly  dragged  up 
a steep  and  rugged  ascent,  and  held  fast  until  he  is  forced  into 
the  presence  of  the  sun  himself,  is  he  not  likely  to  be  pained  and 
irritated?  When  he  approaches  the  light  his  eyes  will  be  daz- 
zled, and  he  will  not  be  able  to  see  anything  at  all  of  what  are 
now  called  realities. 


1 Reading  wapovra. 


THE  REPUBLIC 


211 


Not  all  in  a moment,  he  said. 

He  will  require  to  grow  accustomed  to  the  sight  of  the  upper 
world.  And  first  he  will  see  the  shadows  be.'it,  next  the  reflec- 
tions of  men  and  other  objects  in  the  water,  and  then  the  objects 
themselves;  then  he  will  gaze  upon  the  light  of  the  moon  and 
the  stars  and  the  spangled  heaven ; and  he  will  see  the  sky  and 
the  stars  by  night  better  than  the  sun  or  the  light  of  the  sun 
by  day? 

Certainly. 

Last  of  all  he  will  be  able  to  see  the  sun,  and  not  mere  reflec- 
tions of  him  in  the  water,  but  he  will  see  him  in  his  own  proper 
place,  and  not  in  another ; and  he  will  contemplate  him  as  he  is. 

Certainly. 

He  will  then  proceed  to  argue  that  this  is  he  who  gives  the 
season  and  the  years,  and  is  the  guardian  of  all  that  is  in  the 
visible  world,  and  in  a certain  way  the  cause  of  all  things  which 
he  and  his  fellows  have  been  accustomed  to  behold  ? 

Clearly,  he  said,  he  would  first  see  the  sun  and  then  reason 
about  him. 

And  when  he  remembered  his  old  habitation,  and  the  wisdom 
of  the  den  and  his  fellow-prisoners,  do  you  not  suppose  that 
he  would  felicitate  himself  on  the  change,  and  pity  him? 

Certainly,  he  would. 

And  if  they  were  in  the  habit  of  conferring  honors  among 
themselves  on  those  who  were  quickest  to  observe  the  passing 
shadows  and  to  remark  which  of  them  went  before,  and  which 
followed  after,  and  which  were  together ; and  who  were  there- 
fore best  able  to  draw  conclusions  as  to  the  future,  do  you  think 
that  he  would  care  for  such  honors  and  glories,  or  envy  the 
possessors  of  them?  Would  he  not  say  with  Homer, 

“ Better  to  be  the  poor  servant  of  a poor  master,” 

and  to  endure  anything,  rather  than  think  as  they  do  and  live 
after  their  manner? 

Yes,  he  said,  I think  that  he  would  rather  suffer  anything 
than  entertain  these  false  notions  and  live  in  this  miserable 
manner. 

Imagine  once  more,  I said,  such  a one  coming  suddenly  out 
of  the  sun  to  be  replaced  in  his  old  situation ; would  he  not  be 
certain  to  have  his  eyes  full  of  darkness? 


212 


PLATO 


To  be  sure,  he  said. 

And  if  there  were  a contest,  and  he  had  to  compete  in  meas- 
uring the  shadows  with  the  prisoners  who  had  never  moved  out 
of  the  den,  while  his  sight  was  still  weak,  and  before  his  eyes 
had  become  steady  (and  the  time  which  would  be  needed  to 
acquire  this  new  habit  of  sight  might  be  very  considerable), 
would  he  not  be  ridiculous?  Men  would  say  of  him  that  up 
he  went  and  down  he  came  without  his  eyes;  and  that  it  was 
better  not  even  to  think  of  ascending;  and  if  anyone  tried  to 
loose  another  and  lead  him  up  to  the  light,  let  them  only  catch 
the  offender,  and  they  would  put  him  to  death. 

No  question,  he  said. 

This  entire  allegory,  I said,  you  may  now  append,  dear  Glau- 
con,  to  the  previous  argument ; the  prison-house  is  the  world  of 
sight,  the  light  of  the  fire  is  the  sun,  and  you  will  not  misap- 
prehend me  if  you  interpret  the  journey  upward  to  be  the  ascent 
of  the  soul  into  the  intellectual  world  according  to  my  poor 
belief,  which,  at  your  desire,  I have  expressed — whether  rightly 
or  wrongly,  God  knows.  But,  whether  true  or  false,  my  opin- 
ion is  that  in  the  world  of  knowledge  the  idea  of  good  appears 
last  of  all,  and  is  seen  only  with  an  effort ; and,  when  seen,  is 
also  inferred  to  be  the  universal  author  of  all  things  beautiful 
and  right,  parent  of  light  and  of  the  lord  of  light  in  this  visible 
world,  and  the  immediate  source  of  reason  and  truth  in  the  in- 
tellectual ; and  that  this  is  the  power  upon  which  he  who  would 
act  rationally  either  in  public  or  private  life  must  have  his  eye 
fixed. 

I agree,  he  said,  as  far  as  I am  able  to  understand  you. 

Moreover,  I said,  you  must  not  wonder  that  those  who  attain 
to  this  beatific  vision  are  unwilling  to  descend  to  human  affairs ; 
for  their  souls  are  ever  hastening  into  the  upper  world  where 
they  desire  to  dwell ; which  desire  of  theirs  is  very  natural,  if 
our  allegory  may  be  trusted. 

Yes,  very  natural. 

And  is  there  anything  surprising  in  one  who  passes  from 
divine  contemplations  to  the  evil  state  of  man,  misbehaving 
himself  in  a ridiculous  manner ; if,  while  his  eyes  are  blinking 
and  before  he  has  become  accustomed  to  the  surrounding  dark- 
ness, he  is  compelled  to  fight  in  courts  of  law,  or  in  other  places, 
about  the  images  or  the  shadows  of  images  of  justice,  and  is 


THE  REPUBLIC 


213 

endeavoring  to  meet  the  conceptions  of  those  who  have  never 
yet  seen  absolute  justice? 

Anything  but  surprising,  he  replied. 

Anyone  who  has  common-sense  will  remember  that  the  be- 
wilderments of  the  eyes  are  of  two  kinds,  and  arise  from  two 
causes,  either  from  coming  out  of  the  light  or  from  going  into 
the  lights  which  is  true  of  the  mind's  eye,  quite  as  much  as  of 
the  bodily  eye ; and  he  who  remembers  this  when  he  sees  anyone 
whose  vision  is  perplexed  and  weak,  will  not  be  too  ready  to 
laugh ; he  will  first  ask  whether  that  soul  of  man  has  come  out 
of  the  brighter  life,  and  is  unable  to  see  because  unaccustomed 
to  the  dark,  or  having  turned  from  darkness  to  the  day  is  daz- 
zled by  excess  of  light.  And  he  will  count  the  one  happy  in  his 
condition  and  state  of  being,  and  he  will  pity  the  other ; or,  if 
he  have  a mind  to  laugh  at  the  soul  which  comes  from  below 
into  the  light,  there  will  be  more  reason  in  this  than  in  the  laugh 
which  greets  him  who  returns  from  above  out  of  the  light  into 
the  den. 

That,  he  said,  is  a very  just  distinction. 

But  then,  if  I am  right,  certain  professors  of  education  must 
be  wrong  when  they  say  that  they  can  put  a knowledge  into  the 
soul  which  was  not  there  before,  like  sight  into  blind  eyes. 

They  undoubtedly  say  this,  he  replied. 

Whereas,  our  argument  shows  that  the  power  and  capacity 
of  learning  exists  in  the  soul  already;  and  that  just  as  the  eye 
was  unable  to  turn  from  darkness  to  light  without  the  whole 
body,  so  too  the  instrument  of  knowledge  can  only  by  the  move- 
ment of  the  whole  soul  be  turned  from  the  world  of  becoming 
into  that  of  being,  and  learn  by  degrees  to  endure  the  sight  of 
being,  and  of  the  brightest  and  best  of  being,  or,  in  other  words, 
of  the  good. 

Very  true. 

And  must  there  not  be  some  art  which  will  effect  conversion 
in  the  easiest  and  quickest  manner ; not  implanting  the  faculty 
of  sight,  for  that  exists  already,  but  has  been  turned  in  the 
wrong  direction,  and  is  looking  away  from  the  truth  ? 

Yes,  he  said,  such  an  art  may  be  presumed. 

And  whereas  the  other  so-called  virtues  of  the  soul  seem  to 
be  akin  to  bodily  qualities,  for  even  when  they  are  not  originally 
innate  they  can  be  implanted  later  by  habit  and  exercise,  the 


214 


PLATO 


virtue  of  wisdom  more  than  anything  else  contains  a divine  ele- 
ment which  always  remains,  and  by  this  conversion  is  rendered 
useful  and  profitable ; or,  on  the  other  hand,  hurtful  and  useless. 
Did  you  never  observe  the  narrow  intelligence  flashing  from  the 
keen  eye  of  a clever  rogue — how  eager  he  is,  ho^  clearly  his 
paltry  soul  sees  the  way  to  his  end ; he  is  the  reverse  of  blind, 
but  his  keen  eyesight  is  forced  into  the  service  of  evil,  and  he 
is  mischievous  in  proportion  to  his  cleverness  ? 

Very  true,  he  said. 

But  what  if  there  had  been  a circumcision  of  such  natures 
in  the  days  of  their  youth;  and  they  had  been  severed  from 
those  sensual  pleasures,  such  as  eating  and  drinking,  which,  like 
leaden  weights,  were  attached  to  them  at  their  birth,  and  which 
drag  them  down  and  turn  the  vision  of  their  souls  upon  the 
things  that  are  below — if,  I say,  they  had  been  released  from 
these  impediments  and  turned  in  the  opposite  direction,  the  very 
same  faculty  in  them  would  have  seen  the  truth  as  keenly  as 
they  see  what  their  eyes  are  turned  to  now. 

Very  likely. 

Yes,  I said ; and  there  is  another  thing  which  is  likely,  or 
rather  a necessary  inference  from  what  has  preceded,  that 
neither  the  uneducated  and  uninformed  of  the  truth,  nor  yet 
those  who  never  make  an  end  of  their  education,  will  be  able 
ministers  of  the  State;  not  the  former,  because  they  have  no 
single  aim  of  duty  which  is  the  rule  of  all  their  actions,  private 
as  well  as  public;  nor  the  latter,  because  they  will  not  act 
at  all  except  upon  compulsion,  fancying  that  they  are  already 
dwelling  apart  in  the  islands  of  the  blessed. 

Very  true,  he  replied. 

Then,  I said,  the  business  of  us  who  are  the  founders  of  the 
State  will  be  to  compel  the  best  minds  to  attain  that  knowledge 
which  we  have  already  shown  to  be  the  greatest  of  all — they 
must  continue  to  ascend  until  they  arrive  at  the  good ; but  when 
they  have  ascended  and  seen  enough  we  must  not  allow  them 
to  do  as  they  do  now. 

What  do  you  mean? 

I mean  that  they  remain  in  the  upper  world:  but  this  must 
not  be  allowed;  they  must  be  made  to  descend  again  among 
the  prisoners  in  the  den,  and  partake  of  their  labors  and  honors, 
whether  they  are  worth  having  or  not. 


THE  REPUBLIC 


2IS 

But  Is  not  this  unjust  ? he  said ; ought  we  to  give  them  a worse 
life,  when  they  might  have  a better  ? 

You  have  again  forgotten,  my  friend,  I said,  the  intention 
of  the  legislator,  who  did  not  aim  at  making  any  one  class  in 
the  State  happy  above  the  rest ; the  happiness  was  to  be  in  the 
whole  State,  and  he  held  the  citizens  together  by  persuasion 
and  necessity,  making  them  benefactors  of  the  State,  and  there- 
fore benefactors  of  one  another;  to  this  end  he  created  them, 
not  to  please  themselves,  but  to  be  his  instruments  in  binding 
up  the  State. 

True,  he  said,  I had  forgotten. 

Observe,  Glaucon,  that  there  will  be  no  injustice  in  compel- 
ling our  philosophers  to  have  a care  and  providence  of  others ; 
we  shall  explain  to  them  that  in  other  States,  men  of  their 
class  are  not  obliged  to  share  in  the  toils  of  politics : and  this  is 
reasonable,  for  they  grow  up  at  their  own  sweet  will,  and  the 
government  would  rather  not  have  them.  Being  self-taught, 
they  cannot  be  expected  to  show  any  gratitude  for  a culture 
which  they  have  never  received.  But  we  have  brought  you 
into  the  world  to  be  rulers  of  the  hive,  kings  of  yourselves  and 
of  the  other  citizens,  and  have  educated  you  far  better  and  more 
perfectly  than  they  have  been  educated,  and  you  are  better  able 
to  share  in  the  double  duty.  Wherefore  each  of  you,  when  his 
turn  comes,  must  go  down  to  the  general  underground  abode, 
and  get  the  habit  of  seeing  in  the  dark.  When  you  have  ac- 
quired the  habit,  you  will  see  ten  thousand  times  better  than  the 
inhabitants  of  the  den,  and  you  will  know  what  the  several 
images  are,  and  what  they  represent,  because  you  have  seen  the 
beautiful  and  just  and  good  in  their  truth.  And  thus  our  State, 
which  is  also  yours,  will  be  a reality,  and  not  a dream  only,  and 
will  be  administered  in  a spirit  unlike  that  of  other  States,  in 
which  men  fight  with  one  another  about  shadows  only  and  are 
distracted  in  the  struggle  for  power,  which  in  their  eyes  is  a 
great  good.  Whereas  the  truth  is  that  the  State  in  which  the 
rulers  are  most  reluctant  to  govern  is  always  the  best  and  most 
quietly  governed,  and  the  State  in  which  they  are  most  eager, 
the  worst. 

Quite  true,  he  replied. 

And  will  our  pupils,  when  they  hear  this,  refuse  to  take  their 
turn  at  the  toils  of  State,  when  they  are  allowed  to  spend  the 


2i6 


PLATO 


greater  part  of  their  time  with  one  another  in  the  heavenly 
light  ? 

Impossible,  he  answered;  for  they  are  just  men,  and  the  com- 
mands which  we  impose  upon  them  are  just;  there  can  be  no 
doubt  that  every  one  of  them  will  take  office  as  a stern  necessity, 
and  not  after  the  fashion  of  our  present  rulers  of  State. 

Yes,  my  friend,  I said;  and  there  lies  the  point.  You  must 
contrive  for  your  future  rulers  another  and  a better  life  than 
that  of  a ruler,  and  then  you  may  have  a well-ordered  State; 
for  only  in  the  State  which  offers  this,  will  they  rule  who  are 
truly  rich,  not  in  silver  and  gold,  but  in  virtue  and  wisdom, 
which  are  the  true  blessings  of  life.  Whereas,  if  they  go  to  the 
administration  of  public  affairs,  poor  and  hungering  after  their 
own  private  advantage,  thinking  that  hence  they  are  to  snatch 
the  chief  good,  order  there  can  never  be ; for  they  will  be  fight- 
ing about  office,  and  the  civil  and  domestic  broils  which  thus 
arise  will  be  the  ruin  of  the  rulers  themselves  and  of  the  whole 
State. 

Most  true,  he  replied. 

And  the  only  life  which  looks  down  upon  the  life  of  political 
ambition  is  that  of  true  philosophy.  Do  you  know  of  any 
other  ? 

Indeed,  I do  not,  he  said. 

And  those  who  govern  ought  not  to  be  lovers  o£  the  task  ? 
For,  if  they  are,  there  will  be  rival  lovers,  and  they  will  fight. 

No  question. 

Who,  then,  are  those  whom  we  shall  compel  to  be  guardians  ? 
Surely  they  will  be  the  men  who  are  wisest  about  affairs  of 
State,  and  by  whom  the  State  is  best  administered,  and  who  at 
the  same  time  have  other  honors  and  another  and  a better  life 
than  that  of  politics  ? 

They  are  the  men,  and  I will  choose  them,  he  replied. 

And  now  shall  we  consider  in  what  way  such  guardians  will 
be  produced,  and  how  they  are  to  be  brought  from  darkness  to 
light — as  some  are  said  to  have  ascended  from  the  world  below 
to  the  gods? 

By  all  means,  he  replied. 

The  process,  I said,  is  not  the  turning  over  of  an  oyster- 
shell,^  but  the  turning  round  of  a soul  passing  from  a day  which 

1 In  allusion  to  a game  in  which  two  parties  fled  or  pursued  according  as  an  oyster-shell 
which  was  thrown  into  the  air  fell  with  the  dark  or  light  side  uppermost. 


THE  REPUBLIC 


217 


is  little  better  than  night  to  the  true  day  of  being,  that  is,  the 
ascent  from  below, ^ which  we  affirm  to  be  true  philosophy? 

Quite  so. 

And  should  we  not  inquire  what  sort  of  knowledge  has  the 
power  of  effecting  such  a change  ? 

Certainly. 

What  sort  of  knowledge  is  there  which  would  draw  the  soul 
from  becoming  to  being?  And  another  consideration  has  just 
occurred  to  me:  You  will  remember  that  our  young  men  are 
to  be  warrior  athletes? 

Yes,  that  was  said. 

Then  this  new  kind  of  knowledge  must  have  an  additional 
quality  ? 

What  quality  ? 

Usefulness  in  war. 

Yes,  if  possible. 

There  were  two  parts  in  our  former  scheme  of  education, 
were  there  not  ? 

Just  so. 

There  was  gymnastics,  which  presided  over  the  growth  and 
decay  of  the  body,  and  may  therefore  be  regarded  as  having 
to  do  with  generation  and  corruption? 

True. 

Then  that  is  not  the  knowledge  which  we  are  seeking  to  dis- 
cover ? 

No. 

But  what  do  you  say  of  music^  what  also  entered  to  a certain 
extent  into  our  former  scheme  ? 

Music,  he  said,  as  you  will  remember,  was  the  counterpart 
of  gymnastics,  and  trained  the  guardians  by  the  influences  of 
habit,  by  harmony  making  them  harmonious,  by  rhythm  rhyth- 
mical, but  not  giving  them  science;  and  the  words,  whether 
fabulous  or  possibly  true,  had  kindred  elements  of  rhythm  and 
harmony  in  them.  But  in  music  there  was  nothing  which  tend- 
ed to  that  good  which  you  are  now  seeking. 

You  are  most  accurate,  I said,  in  your  recollection ; in  music 
there  certainly  was  nothing  of  the  kind.  But  what  branch  of 
knowledge  is  there,  my  dear  Glaucon,  which  is  of  the  desired 
nature ; since  all  the  useful  arts  were  reckoned  mean  by  us  ? 

* Reading  oiaov  indvoBov. 


2I8 


PLATO 


Undoubtedly ; and  yet  if  music  and  gymnastics  are  excluded, 
and  the  arts  are  also  excluded,  what  remains  ? 

Well,  I said,  there  may  be  nothing  left  of  our  special  sub- 
jects; and  then  we  shall  have  to  take  something  which  is  not 
special,  but  of  the  universal  application. 

What  may  that  be? 

A something  which  all  arts  and  sciences  and  intelligences 
use  in  common,  and  which  everyone  first  has  to  learn  among 
the  elements  of  education. 

What  is  that? 

The  little  matter  of  distinguishing  one,  two,  and  three — -in 
a word,  number  and  calculation:  do  not  all  arts  and  sciences 
necessarily  partake  of  them  ? 

Yes. 

Then  the  art  of  war  partakes  of  them? 

To  be  sure. 

Then  Palamedes,  whenever  he  appears  in  tragedy,  proves 
Agamemnon  ridiculously  unfit  to  be  a general.  Did  you  never 
remark  how  he  declares  that  he  had  invented  number,  and  had 
numbered  the  ships  and  set  in  array  the  ranks  of  the  army  at 
Troy ; which  implies  that  they  had  never  been  numbered  before, 
and  Agamemnon  must  be  supposed  literally  to  have  been  in- 
capable of  counting  his  own  fleet — how  could  he  if  he  was  ig- 
norant of  number?  And  if  that  is  true,  what  sort  of  general 
must  he  have  been  ? 

I should  say  a very  strange  one,  if  this  was  as  you  say. 

Can  we  deny  that  a warrior  should  have  a knowledge  of 
arithmetic  ? 

Certainly  he  should,  if  he  is  to  have  the  smallest  understand- 
ing of  military  tactics,  or  indeed,  I should  rather  say,  if  he  is  to 
be  a man  at  all. 

I should  like  to  know  whether  you  have  the  same  notion 
which  I have  of  this  study  ? 

What  is  your  notion  ? 

It  appears  to  me  to  be  a study  of  the  kind  which  we  are  seek- 
ing, and  which  leads  naturally  to  reflection,  but  never  to  have 
been  rightly  used ; for  the  true  use  of  it  is  simply  to  draw  the 
soul  toward  being. 

Will  you  explain  your  meaning?  he  said. 

I will  try,  I said ; and  I wish  you  would  share  the  inquiry 


THE  REPUBLIC 


219 


with  me,  and  say  ‘‘yes  or  “ no  when  I attempt  to  distinguish 
in  my  own  mind  what  branches  of  knowledge  have  this  attract- 
ing power,  in  order  that  we  may  have  clearer  proof  that  arith- 
metic is,  as  I suspect,  one  of  them. 

Explain,  he  said. 

I mean  to  say  that, objects  of  sense  are  of  two  kinds;  some 
of  them  do  not  invite  thought  because  the  sense  is  an  adequate 
judge  of  them ; while  in  the  case  of  other  obects  sense  is  so  un- 
trustworthy that  further  inquiry  is  imperatively  demanded. 

You  are  clearly  referring,  he  said,  to  the  manner  in  which 
the  senses  are  imposed  upon  by  distance,  and  by  painting  in 
light  and  shade. 

No,  I said,  that  is  not  at  all  my  meaning. 

Then  what  is  your  meaning  ? 

When  speaking  of  uninviting  objects,  I mean  those  which  do 
not  pass  from  one  sensation  to  the  opposite;  inviting  objects 
are  those  which  do;  in  this  latter  case  the  sense  coming  upon 
the  object,  whether  at  a distance  or  near,  gives  no  more  vivid 
idea  of  anything  in  particular  than  of  its  opposite.  An  illus- 
tration will  make  my  meaning  clearer : here  are  three  fingers — 
a little  finger,  a second  finger,  and  a middle  finger. 

Very  good. 

You  may  suppose  that  they  are  seen  quite  close:  And  here 
comes  the  point. 

What  is  it  ? 

Each  of  them  equally  appears  a finger,  whether  seen  in  the 
middle  or  at  the  extremity,  whether  white  or  black,  or  thick 
or  thin — it  makes  no  difference;  a finger  is  a finger  all  the 
same.  In  these  cases  a man  is  not  compelled  to  ask  of  thought 
the  question.  What  is  a finger  ? for  the  sight  never  intimates  to 
the  mind  that  a finger  is  other  than  a finger. 

True. 

And  therefore,  I said,  as  we  might  expect,  there  is  nothing 
here  which  invites  or  excites  intelligence. 

There  is  not,  he  said. 

But  is  this  equally  true  of  the  greatness  and  smallness  of  the 
fingers  ? Can  sight  adequately  perceive  them  ? and  is  no  differ- 
ence made  by  the  circumstance  that  one  of  the  fingers  is  in  the 
middle  and  the  other  at  the  extremity?  And  in  like  manner 
does  the  touch  adequately  perceive  the  qualities  of  thickness  or 


220 


PLATO 


thinness,  of  softness  or  hardness  ? And  so  of  the  other  senses ; 
do  they  give  perfect  intimations  of  such  matters  ? Is  not  their 
mode  of  operation  on  this  wise — the  sense  which  is  concerned 
with  the  quality  of  hardness  is  necessarily  concerned  also  with 
the  quality  of  softness,  and  only  intimates  to  the  soul  that  the 
same  thing  is  felt  to  be  both  hard  and  soft  ? 

You  are  quite  right,  he  said. 

And  must  not  the  soul  be  perplexed  at  this  intimation  which 
the  sense  gives  of  a hard  which  is  also  soft?  What,  again,  is 
the  meaning  of  light  and  heavy,  if  that  which  is  light  is  also 
heavy,  and  that  which  is  heavy,  light  ? 

Yes,  he  said,  these  intimations  which  the  soul  receives  are 
very  curious  and  require  to  be  explained. 

Yes,  I said,  and  in  these  perplexities  the  soul  naturally  sum- 
mons to  her  aid  calculation  and  intelligence,  that  she  may  see 
whether  the  several  objects  announced  to  her  are  one  or  two. 

True. 

And  if  they  turn  out  to  be  two,  is  not  each  of  them  one  and 
different  ? 

Certainly. 

And  if  each  is  one,  and  both  are  two,  she  will  conceive  the 
two  as  in  a state  of  division,  for  if  they  were  undivided  they 
could  only  be  conceived  of  as  one  ? 

True. 

The  eye  certainly  did  see  both  small  and  great,  but  only  in 
a confused  manner ; they  were  not  distinguished. 

Yes. 

Whereas  the  thinking  mind,  intending  to  light  up  the  chaos, 
was  compelled  to  reverse  the  process,  and  look  at  small  and 
great  as  separate  and  not  confused. 

Very  true. 

Was  not  this  the  beginning  of  the  inquiry,  What  is  great?  ** 
and  ‘‘  What  is  small  ? ’’ 

Exactly  so. 

And  thus  arose  the  distinction  of  the  visible  and  the  intel- 
ligible. 

Most  true. 

This  was  what  I meant  when  I spoke  of  impressions  which 
invited  the  intellect,  or  the  reverse — those  which  are  simul- 
taneous with  opposite  impressions,  invite  thought ; those  which 
are  not  simultaneous  do  not. 


THE  REPUBLIC 


231 


I understand,  he  said,  and  agree  with  you. 

And  to  which  class  do  unity  and  number  belong? 

I do  not  know,  he  replied. 

Think  a little  and  you  will  see  that  what  has  preceded  will 
supply  the  answer ; for  if  simple  unity  could  be  adequately  per- 
ceived by  the  sight  or  by  any  other  sense,  then,  as  we  were  say- 
ing in  the  case  of  the  finger,  there  would  be  nothing  to  attract 
toward  being;  but  when  there  is  some  contradiction  always 
present,  and  one  is  the  reverse  of  one  and  involves  the  concep- 
tion of  plurality,  then  thought  begins  to  be  aroused  within  us, 
and  the  soul  perplexed  and  wanting  to  arrive  at  a decision  asks, 
“ What  is  absolute  unity  ? ” This  is  the  way  in  which  the  study 
of  the  one  has  a power  of  drawing  and  converting  the  mind 
to  the  contemplation  of  true  being. 

And  surely,  he  said,  this  occurs  notably  in  the  case  of  one; 
for  we  see  the  same  thing  to  be  both  one  and  infinite  in  multi- 
tude? 

Yes,  I said;  and  this  being  true  of  one  must  be  equally  true 
of  all  number  ? 

Certainly. 

And  all  arithmetic  and  calculation  have  to  do  with  number? 

Yes. 

And  they  appear  to  lead  the  mind  toward  truth? 

Yes,  in  a very  remarkable  manner. 

Then  this  is  knowledge  of  the  kind  for  which  we  are  seeking, 
having  a double  use,  military  and  philosophical ; for  the  man  of 
war  must  learn  the  art  of  number  or  he  will  not  know  how  to 
array  his  troops,  and  the  philosopher  also,  because  he  has  to 
rise  out  of  the  sea  of  change  and  lay  hold  of  true  being,  and 
therefore  he  must  be  an  arithmetician. 

That  is  true. 

And  our  guardian  is  both  warrior  and  philosopher? 

Certainly. 

Then  this  is  a kind  of  knowledge  which  legislation  may  fitly 
prescribe ; and  we  must  endeavor  to  persuade  those  who  are  to 
be  the  principal  men  of  our  State  to  go  and  learn  arithmetic, 
not  as  amateurs,  but  they  must  carry  on  the  study  until  they  see 
the  nature  of  numbers  with  the  mind  only ; nor  again,  like  mer- 
chants or  retail-traders,  with  a view  to  buying  or  selling,  but 
for  the  sake  of  their  military  use,  and  of  the  soul  herself ; and 


232 


PLATO 


because  this  will  be  the  easiest  way  for  her  to  pass  from  becom- 
ing to  truth  and  being. 

That  is  excellent,  he  said. 

Yes,  I said,  and  now  having  spoken  of  it,  I must  add  how 
charming  the  science  is ! and  in  how  many  ways  it  conduces  to 
our  desired  end,  if  pursued  in  the  spirit  of  a philosopher,  and 
not  of  a shopkeeper ! 

How  do  you  mean  ? 

I mean,  as  I was  saying,  that  arithmetic  has  a very  great  and 
elevating  effect,  compelling  the  soul  to  reason  about  abstract 
number,  and  rebelling  against  the  introduction  of  visible  or 
tangible  objects  into  the  argument.  You  know  how  steadily 
the  masters  of  the  art  repel  and  ridicule  anyone  who  attempts 
to  divide  absolute  unity  when  he  is  calculating,  and  if  you 
divide,  they  multiply,^  taking  care  that  one  shall  continue  one 
and  not  become  lost  in  fractions. 

That  is  very  true. 

Now,  suppose  a person  were  to  say  to  them : O my  friends, 
what  are  these  wonderful  numbers  about  which  you  are  rea- 
soning, in  which,  as  you  say,  there  is  a unity  such  as  you  de- 
mand, and  each  unit  is  equal,  invariable,  indivisible — ^what 
would  they  answer  ? 

They  would  answer,  as  I should  conceive,  that  they  were 
speaking  of  those  numbers  which  can  only  be  realized  in 
thought. 

Then  you  see  that  this  knowledge  may  be  truly  called  neces- 
sary, necessitating  as  it  clearly  does  the  use  of  the  pure  intelli- 
gence in  the  attainment  of  pure  truth? 

Yes;  that  is  a marked  characteristic  of  it. 

And  have  you  further  observed  that  those  who  have  a natural 
talent  for  calculation  are  generally  quick  at  every  other  kind  of 
knowledge ; and  even  the  dull,  if  they  have  had  an  arithmetical 
training,  although  they  may  derive  no  other  advantage  from  it, 
always  become  much  quicker  than  they  would  otherwise  have 
been? 

Very  true,  he  said. 

And  indeed,  you  will  not  easily  find  a more  difficult  study, 
and  not  many  as  difficult. 

> Meaning  either  (i)  that  they  integrate  the  number  because  they  deny  the  possibility  of 
fractions  ; or  (2)  that  division  is  regarded  by  them  as  a process  of  multiplication,  for  the 
fractions  of  one  continue  to  be  units. 


THE  REPUBLIC 


223 


You  will  not. 

And,  for  all  these  reasons,  arithmetic  is  a kind  of  knowledge 
in  which  the  best  natures  should  be  trained,  and  which  must 
not  be  given  up. 

I agree. 

Let  this  then  be  made  one  of  our  subjects  of  education.  And 
next,  shall  we  inquire  whether  the  kindred  science  also  con- 
cerns us? 

You  mean  geometry?  x 

Exactly  so. 

Clearly,  he  said,  we  are  concerned  with  that  part  of  geometry 
which  relates  to  war;  for  in  pitching  a camp  or  taking  up  a 
position  or  closing  or  extending  the  lines  of  an  army,  or  any 
other  military  manoeuvre,  whether  in  actual  battle  or  on  a 
march,  it  will  make  all  the  difference  whether  a general  is  or  is 
not  a geometrician. 

Yes,  I said,  but  for  that  purpose  a very  little  of  either  geome- 
try or  calculation  will  be  enough;  the  question  relates  rather 
to  the  greater  and  more  advanced  part  of  geometry — whether 
that  tends  in  any  degree  to  make  more  easy  the  vision  of  the 
idea  of  good ; and  thither,  as  I was  saying,  all  things  tend  which 
compel  the  soul  to  turn  her  gaze  toward  that  place,  where  is 
the  full  perfection  of  being,  which  she  ought,  by  all  means,  to 
behold. 

True,  he  said. 

Then  if  geometry  compels  us  to  view  being,  it  concerns  us ; 
if  becoming  only,  it  does  not  concern  us  ? 

Yes,  that  is  what  we  assert. 

Yet  anybody  who  has  the  least  acquaintance  with  geometry 
will  not  deny  that  such  a conception  of  the  science  is  in  flat  con- 
tradiction to  the  ordinary  language  of  geometricians. 

How  so  ? 

They  have  in  view  practice  only,  and  are  always  speaking, 
in  a narrow  and  ridiculous  manner,  of  squaring  and  extending 
and  applying  and  the  like — they  confuse  the  necessities  of  ge- 
ometry with  those  of  daily  life ; whereas  knowledge  is  the  real 
object  of  th,e  whole  science^.^.,.,,^.^^ 

' — *Cerfarnly,  h^‘ saMT"^"^ 

Then  must  not  a further  admission  be  made? 

What  admission? 

Classics.  Vol.  31—14 


224 


PLATO 


That  the  knowledge  at  which  geometry  aims  is  knowledges 
of  the  eternal,  and  not  of  aught  perishing  and  transient. 

That,  he  replied,  may  be  readily  allowed,  and  is  true. 

Then,  my  noble  friend,  geometry  will  draw  the  soul  toward 
truth,  and  create  the  spirit  of  philosophy,  and  raise  up  that 
which  is  now  unhappily  allowed  to  fall  down. 

Nothing  will  be  more  likely  to  have  such  an  effect. 

Then  nothing  should  be  more  sternly  laid  down  than  that  the 
inhabitants  of  your  fair  city  should  by  all  means  learn  geometry. 
Moreover,  the  science  has  indirect  effects,  which  are  not  small. 

Of  what  kind?  he  said. 

There  are  the  military  advantages  of  which  you  spoke,  I said ; 
\ and  in  all  departments  of  knowledge,  as  experience  proves,  any- 
one who  has  studied  geometry  is  infinitely  quicker  of  apprehen- 
sion than  one  who  has  not. 

Yes,  indeed,  he  said,  there  is  an  infinite  difference  between 
them. 

Then  shall  we  propose  this  as  a second  branch  of  knowledge 
which  our  youth  will  study  ? 

Let  us  do  so,  he  replied. 

^ And  suppose  we  make  ^^roijQmy  the  third — what  do  you 
' say  ? ^ 

I am  strongly  inclined  to  it,  he  said ; the  observation  of  the 
seasons  and  of  months  and  years  is  as  essential  to  the  general 
as  it  is  to  the  farmer  or  sailor. 

I am  amused,  I said,  at  your  fear  of  the  world,  which  makes 
you  guard  against  the  appearance  of  insisting  upon  useless 
studies;  and  I quite  admit  the  difficulty  of  believing  that  in 
every  man  there  is  an  eye  of  the  soul  which,  when  by  other  pur- 
suits lost  and  dimmed,  is  by  these  purified  and  reillumined ; and 
is  more  precious  far  than  ten  thousand  bodily  eyes,  for  by  it 
alone  is  truth  seen.  Now  there  are  two  classes  of  persons: 
one  class  of  those  who  will  agree  with  you  and  will  take  your 
words  as  a revelation ; another  class  to  whom  they  will  be  ut- 
terly unmeaning,  and  who  will  naturally  deem  them  to  be  idle 
tales,  for  they  see  no  sort  of  profit  which  is  to  be  obtained  from 
them.  And  therefore  you  had  better  decide  at  once  with  which 
of  the  two  you  are  proposing  to  argue.  You  will  very  likely 
say  with  neither,  and  that  your  chief  aim  in  carrying  on  the 
argument  is  your  own  improvement ; at  the  same  time  you  do 
not  grudge  to  others  any  benefit  which  they  may  receive. 


THE  REPUBLIC 


225 

I think  that  I should  prefer  to  carry  on  the  argument  mainly 
on  my  own  behalf. 

Then  take  a step  backward,  for  we  have  gone  wrong  in  the 
order  of  the  sciences. 

What  was  the  mistake?  he  said. 

After  plane  geometry,  I said,  we  proceeded  at  once  to  solids 
in  revolution,  instead  of  taking  solids  in  themselves;  whereas 
after  the  second  dimension,  the  third,  which  is  concerned  with 
cubes  and  dimensions  of  depth,  ought  to  have  followed. 

That  is  true,  Socrates ; but  so  little  seems  to  be  known  as  yet 
about  these  subjects. 

Why,  yes,  I said,  and  for  two  reasons : in  the  first  place,  no 
government  patronizes  them ; this  leads  to  a want  of  energy  in 
the  pursuit  of  them,  and  they  are  difficult ; in  the  second  place, 
students  cannot  learn  them  unless  they  have  a director.  But 
then  a director  can  hardly  be  found,  and,  even  if  he  could,  as 
matters  now  stand,  the  students,  who  are  very  conceited,  would 
not  attend  to  him.  That,  however,  would  be  otherwise  if  the 
whole  State  became  the  director  of  these  studies  and  gave  honor 
to  them ; then  disciples  would  want  to  come,  and  there  would  be 
continuous  and  earnest  search,  and  discoveries  would  be  made ; 
since  even  now,  disregarded  as  they  are  by  the  world,  and 
maimed  of  their  fair  proportions,  and  although  none  of  their 
votaries  can  tell  the  use  of  them,  still  these  studies  force  their 
way  by  their  natural  charm,  and  very  likely,  if  they  had  the  help 
of  the  State,  they  would  some  day  emerge  into  light. 

Yes,  he  said,  there  is  a remarkable  charm  in  them.  But  I do 
not  clearly  understand  the  change  in  the  order.  First  you  be- 
gan with  a geometry  of  plane  surfaces? 

Yes,  I said. 

And  you  placed  astronomy  next,  and  then  you  made  a step 
backward  ? 

Yes,  and  I have  delayed  you  by  my  hurry ; the  ludicrous  state 
of  solid  geometry,  jyjhich,  in  natural  order,  should  have  fol- 
lowed, made  me  pass  over  this  branch  and  go  on  to  astronomy, 
or  motion  of  solids. 

True,  he  said. 

Then  assuming  that  the  science  now  omitted  would  come  into 
existence  if  encouraged  by  the  State,  let  us  go  on  to  astronomy, 
which  will  be  fourth. 


926 


PLATO 


The  right  order,  he  replied.  And  now,  Socrates,  as  von  re- 
buked the  vulgar  manner  in  which  I praised  astronomy  oetore, 
my  praise  shall  be  given  in  your  own  spirit.  For  everyone,  as 
I think,  must  see  that  astronomy  compels  the  soul  to  look  up- 
ward and  leads  us  from  this  world  to  another. 

Everyone  but  myself,  I said;  to  everyone  else  this  may  be 
clear,  but  not  to  me. 

And  what,  then,  would  you  say  ? 

I should  rather  say  that  those  who  elevate  astronomy  into 
philosophy  appear  to  me  to  make  us  look  downward,  and  not 
upward. 

What  do  you  mean  ? he  asked. 

You,  I replied,  have  in  your  mind  a truly  sublime  conception 
of  our  knowledge  of  the  things  above.  And  I dare  say  that  if 
a person  were  to  throw  his  head  back  and  study  the  fretted  ceil- 
ing,  you  would  still  think  that  his  mind  was  the  percipient,  and 
not  his  eyes.  And  you  are  very  likely  right,  and  I may  be  a 
simpleton:  but,  in  my  opinion,  that  knowledge  only  which  is 
of  being  and  of  the  unseen  can  make  the  soul  look  upward,  and 
whether  a man  gapes  at  the  heavens  or  blinks  on  the  ground, 
seeking  to  learn  some  particular  of  sense,  I would  deny  that  he 
can  learn,  for  nothing  of  that  sort  is  matter  of  science ; his  soul 
is  looking  downward,  not  upward,  whether  his  way  to  knowl- 
edge is  by  water  or  by  land,  whether  he  floats  or  only  lies  on  his 
back. 

I acknowledge,  he  said,  the  justice  of  your  rebuke.  Still,  I 
should  like  to  ascertain  how  astronomy  can  be  learned  in  any 
manner  more  conducive  to  that  knowledge  of  which  we  are 
speaking? 

I will  tell  you,  I said : The  starry  heaven  which  we  behold 
is  wrought  upon  a visible  ground,  and  therefore,  although  the 
fairest  and  most  perfect  of  visible  things,  must  necessarily  be 
deemed  inferior  far  to  the  true  motions  of  absolute  swiftness 
and  absolute  slowness,  which  are  relative  to  each  other,  and 
carry  with  them  that  which  is  contained  in  them,  in  the  true 
number  and  in  every  true  figure.  Now,  these  are  to  be  appre- 
hended by  reason  and  intelligence,  but  not  by  sight. 

True,  he  replied. 

The  spangled  heavens  should  be  used  as  a pattern  and  with 
a view  to  that  higher  knowledge ; their  beauty  is  like  the  beauty 


THE  REPUBLIC 


227 


of  figures  or  pictures  excellently  wrought  by  the  hand  of  Dae- 
dalus, or  some  other  great  artist,  which  we  may  chance  to  be- 
hold ; any  geometrician  who  saw  them  would  appreciate  the  ex- 
quisiteness of  their  workmanship,  but  he  would  never  dream  of 
thinking  that  in  them  he  could  find  the  true  equal  or  the  true 
double,  or  the  truth  of  any  other  proportion. 

No,  he  replied,  such  an  idea  would  be  ridiculous. 

And  will  not  a true  astronomer  have  the  same  feeling  when 
he  looks  at  the  movements  of  the  stars?  Will  he  not  think 
that  heaven  and  the  things  in  heaven  are  framed  by  the  Creator 
of  them  in  the  most  perfect  manner  ? But  he  will  never  imag- 
ine that  the  proportions  of  night  and  day,  or  of  both  to  the 
month,  or  of  the  month  to  the  year,  or  of  the  stars  to  these  and 
to  one  another,  and  any  other  things  that  are  material  and  visi- 
ble can  also  be  eternal  and  subject  to  no  deviation — that  would 
be  absurd;  and  it  is  equally  absurd  to  take  so  much  pains  in 

vestigating  their  exact  truth. 


I quite  agree,  though  I never  thought  of  this  before. 


^ Then,  I said,  in  astronomy,  as  in  geometry,  we  should  em- 
ploy problems,  and  let  the  heavens  alone  if  we  would  approach 
the  subject  in  the  right  way  and  so  make  the  natural  gift  of 
reason  to  be  of  any  real  use. 

That,  he  said,  is  a work  infinitely  beyond  our  present  astron- 
omers. 

Yes,  I said ; and  there  are  many  other  things  which  must  also 
have  a similar  extension  given  to  them,  if  our  legislation  is  to 
be  of  any  value.  But  can  you  tell  me  of  any  other  suitable 
study  ? 

No,  he  said,  not  without  thinking. 

Motion,  I said,  has  many  forms,  and  not  one  only;  two  of 
them  are  obvious  enough  even  to  wits  no  better  than  ours ; and 
there  are  others,  as  I imagine,  which  may  be  left  to  wiser  per- 
sons. 

But  where  are  the  two  ? 

There  is  a second,  I said,  which  is  the  counterpart  of  the  one 
already  named. 

And  what  may  that  be  ? 

The  second,  I said,  would  seem  relatively  to  the  ears  to  be 
what  the  first  is  to  the  eyes ; for  I conceive  that  as  the  eyes  are 
designed  to  look  up  at  the  stars,  so  are  the  ears  to  hear  harmo- 


228 


PLATO 


nious  motions ; and  these  are  sister  sciences — as  the  Pythago- 
reans say,  and  we,  Glaucon,  agree  with  them? 

Yes,  he  replied. 

But  this,  I said,  is  a laborious  study,  and  therefore  we  had 
better  go  and  learn  of  them ; and  they  will  tell  us  whether  there 
are  any  other  applications  of  these  sciences.  At  the  same  time, 
we  must  not  lose  sight  of  our  own  higher  object. 

What  is  that  ? 

There  is  a perfection  which  all  knowledge  ought  to  reach, 
and  which  our  pupils  ought  also  to  attain,  and  not  to  fall  short 
of,  as  I was  saying  that  they  did  in  astronomy.  For  in  the 
science  of  harmony,  as  you  probably  know,  the  same  thing  hap- 
pens. The  teachers  of  harmony  compare  the  sounds  and  con- 
sonances which  are  heard  only,  and  their  labor,  like  that  of  the 
astronomers,  is  in  vain. 

Yes,  by  heaven!  he  said;  and  ’tis  as  good  as  a play  to  hear 
them  talking  about  their  condensed  notes,  as  they  call  them; 
they  put  their  ears  close  alongside  of  the  strings  like  persons 
catching  a sound  from  their  neighbor’s  wall  ^ — one  set  of  them' 
declaring  that  they  distinguish  an  intermediate  note  and  have 
found  the  least  interval  which  should  be  the  unit  of  measure- 
ment ; the  others  insisting  that  the  two  sounds  have  passed  into 
the  same — either  party  setting  their  ears  before  their  under- 
standing. 

You  mean,  I said,  those  gentlemen  who  tease  and  torture  the 
strings  and  rack  them  on  the  pegs  of  the  instrument : I might 
carry  on  the  metaphor  and  speak  after  their  manner  of  the 
blows  which  the  plectrum  gives,  and  make  accusations  against 
the  strings,  both  of  backwardness  and  forwardness  to  sound; 
but  this  would  be  tedious,  and  therefore  I will  only  say  that 
these  are  not  the  men,  and  that  I am  referring  to  the  Pytha- 
goreans, of  whom  I was  just  now  proposing  to  inquire  about 
harmony.  For  they  too  are  in  error,  like  the  astronomers ; they 
investigate  the  numbers  of  the  harmonies  which  are  heard,  but 
they  never  attain  to  problems — that  is  to  say,  they  never  reach 
the  natural  harmonies  of  number,  or  reflect  why  some  numbers 
are  harmonious  and  others  not. 

That,  he  said,  is  a thing  of  more  than  mortal  knowledge. 

A thing,  I replied,  which  I would  rather  call  useful ; that  is, 

* Or,  “ close  alongside  of  their  neighbor’s  instruments,  as  if  to  catch  a sound  from  them.** 


THE  REPUBLIC 


229 


if  sought  after  with  a view  to  the  beautiful  and  good;  but  if 
pursued  in  any  other  spirit,  useless. 

Very  true,  he  said. 

Now,  when  all  these  studies  reach  the  point  of  intercommun- 
ion and  connection  with  one  another,  and  come  to  be  considered 
in  their  mutual  affinities,  then,  I think,  but  not  till  then,  will  the 
pursuit  of  them  have  a value  for  our  objects;  otherwise  there 
is  no  profit  in  them. 

I suspect  so ; but  you  are  speaking,  Socrates,  of  a vast  work. 

What  do  you  mean  ? I said ; the  prelude,  or  what  ? Do  you 
not  know  that  all  this  is  but  the  prelude  to  the  actual  strain 
which  we  have  to  learn?  For  you  surely  would  not  regard 
the  skilled  mathematician  as  a dialectician? 

Assuredly  not^  he  said ; I have  hardly  ever  known  a mathe- 
matician who  was  capable  of  reasoning. 

But  do  you  imagine  that  men  who  are  unable  to  give  and 
take  a reason  will  have  the  knowledge  which  we  require  of 
them? 

Neither  can  this  be  supposed. 

And  so,  Glaucon,  I said,  we  have  at  last  arrived  at  the  hymn 
of  dialectic.  This  is  that  strain  which  is  of  the  intellect  only, 
but  which  the  faculty  of  sight  will  nevertheless  be  found  to  im- 
itate; for  sight,  as  you  may  remember,  was  imagined  by  us 
after  a while  to  behold  the  real  animals  and  stars,  and  last  of  all 
the  sun  himself.  And  so  with  dialectic ; when  a person  starts 
on  the  discovery  of  the  absolute  by  the  light  of  reason  only,  and 
without  any  assistance  of  sense,  and  perseveres  until  by  pure 
intelligence  he  arrives  at  the  perception  of  the  absolute  good, 
he  at  last  finds  himself  at  the  end  of  the  intellectual  world,  as 
in  the  case  of  sight  at  the  end  of  the  visible. 

Exactly,  he  said. 

Then  this  is  the  progress  which  you  call  dialectic? 

True. 

But  the  release  of  the  prisoners  from  chains,  and  their  trans- 
lation from  the  shadows  to  the  images  and  to  the  light,  and  the 
ascent  from  the  underground  den  to  the  sun,  while  in  his  pres- 
ence they  are  vainly  trying  to  look  on  animals  and  plants  and 
the  light  of  the  sun,  but  are  able  to  perceive  even  with  their 
weak  eyes  the  images^  in  the  water  (which  are  divine),  and 

* Omitting  ivravOa  fie  irpos  dtavrdarixara.  The  word  0e?a  is  bracketed  by  Stallbaum. 


230 


PLATO 


are  the  shadows  of  true  existence  (not  shadows  of  images  cast 
by  a light  of  fire,  which  compared  with  the  sun  is  only  an 
image) — this  power  of  elevating  the  highest  principle  in  the 
soul  to  the  contemplation  of  that  which  is  best  in  existence, 
with  which  we  may  compare  the  raising  of  that  faculty  which 
is  the  very  light  of  the  body  to  the  sight  of  that  which  is  bright- 
est in  the  material  and  visible  world — this  power  is  given,  as 
I was  saying,  by  all  that  study  and  pursuit  of  the  arts  which 
have  been  described. 

I agree  in  what  you  are  saying,  he  replied,  which  may  be 
hard  to  believe,  yet,  from  another  point  of  view,  is  harder  still 
to  deny.  This,  however,  is  not  a theme  to  be  treated  of  in  pass- 
ing only,  but  will  have  to  be  discussed  again  and  again.  And 
so,  whether  our  conclusion  be  true  or  false,  let  us  assume  all 
this,  and  proceed  at  once  from  the  prelude  or  preamble  to  the 
chief  strain,^  and  describe  that  in  like  manner.  Say,  then,  what 
is  the  nature  and  what  are  the  divisions  of  dialectic,  and  what 
are  the  paths  which  lead  thither ; for  these  paths  will  also  lead 
to  our  final  rest. 

Dear  Glaucon,  I said,  you  will  not  be  able  to  follow  me  here, 
though  I would  do  my  best,  and  you  should  behold  not  an  image 
only,  but  the  absolute  truth,  according  to  my  notion.  Whether 
what  I told  you  would  or  would  not  have  been  a reality  I cannot 
venture  to  say ; but  you  would  have  seen  something  like  reality ; 
of  that  I am  confident. 

Doubtless,  he  replied. 

But  I must  also  remind  you  that  the  power  of  dialectic  alone 
can  reveal  this,  and  only  to  one  who  is  a disciple  of  the  previous 
sciences. 

Of  that  assertion  you  may  be  as  confident  as  of  the  last. 

And  assuredly  no  one  will  argue  that  there  is  any  other 
method  of  comprehending  by  any  regular  process  all  true  ex- 
istence, or  of  ascertaining  what  each  thing  is  in  its  own  nature ; 
for  the  arts  in  general  are  concerned  with  the  desires  or  opin- 
ions of  men,  or  are  cultivated  with  a view  to  production  and 
construction,  or  for  the  preservation  of  such  productions  and 
constructions;  and  as  to  the  mathematical  sciences  which,  as 
we  were  saying,  have  some  apprehension  of  true  being — ge 'm- 
etry  and  the  like — ^they  only  dream  about  being,  but  never  an 

‘ A play  upon  the  work  I'd/AOf,  which  means  both  “ law  and  “ strain.*’ 


THE  REPUBLIC 


*31 ' 

they  behold  the  waking  reality  so  long  as  they  leave  the  hy- 
potheses which  they  use  unexamined,  and  are  unable  to  give  an 
account  of  them.  For  when  a man  knows  not  his  own  first 
principle,  and  when  the  conclusion  and  intermediate  steps  are 
also  constructed  out  of  he  knows  not  what,  how  can  he  imagine 
that  such  a fabric  of  convention  can  ever  become  science  ? 

Impossible,  he  said. 

Then  dialectic,  and  dialectic  alone,  goes  directly  to  the  first 
principle  and  is  the  only  science  which  does  away  with  hy- 
potheses in  order  to  make  her  ground  secure;  the  eye  of  the 
soul,  which  is  literally  buried  in  an  outlandish  slough,  is  by  her 
gentle  aid  lifted  upward;  and  she  uses  as  handmaids  and 
helpers  in  the  work  of  conversion,  the  sciences  which  we  have 
been  discussing.  Custom  terms  them  sciences,  but  they  ought 
to  have  some  other  name,  implying  greater  clearness  than  opin- 
ion and  less  clearness  than  science:  and  this,  in  our  previous 
sketch,  was  called  understanding.  But  why  should  we  dispute 
about  names  when  we  have  realities  of  such  importance  to  con- 
sider ? 

Why,  indeed,  he  said,  when  any  name  will  do  which  ex- 
presses the  thought  of  the  mind  with  clearness  ? 

At  any  rate,  we  are  satisfied,  as  before,  to  have  four  divisions ; 
two  for  intellect  and  two  for  opinion,  and  to  call  the  first  divis- 
ion science,  the  second  understanding,  the  third  belief,  and  the 
fourth  perception  of  shadows,  opinion  being  concerned  with 
becoming,  and  intellect  with  being;  and  so  to  make  a propor- 
tion: 

“ As  being  is  to  becoming,  so  is  pure  intellect  to  opinion. 

And  as  intellect  is  to  opinion,  so  is  science  to  belief,  and  understand- 
ing to  the  perception  of  shadows.’* 

But  let  us  defer  the  further  correlation  and  subdivision  of  the 
subjects  of  opinion  and  of  intellect,  for  it  will  be  a long  inquiry, 
many  times  longer  than  this  has  been. 

As  far  as  I understand,  he  said,  I agree. 

And  do  you  also  agree,  I said,  in  describing  the  dialectician 
as  one  who  attains  a conception  of  the  essence  of  each  thing? 
'.he  who  does  not  possess  and  is  therefore  unable  to  impart 
conception,  in  whatever  degree  he  fails,  may  in  that  degree 


PLATO 


232 

Yes,  he  said;  how  can  I deny  it? 

And  you  would  say  the  same  of  the  conception  of  the  good  ? 
Until  the  person  is  able  to  abstract  and  define  rationally  the 
idea  of  good,  and  unless  he  can  run  the  gauntlet  of  all  objec- 
tions, and  is  ready  to  disprove  them,  not  by  appeals  to  opinion, 
but  to  absolute  truth,  never  faltering  at  any  step  of  the  argu- 
ment— unless  he  can  do  all  this,  you  would  say  that  he  knows 
neither  the  idea  of  good  nor  any  other  good;  he  apprehends 
only  a shadow,  if  anything  at  all,  which  is  given  by  opinion, 
and  not  by  science ; dreaming  and  slumbering  in  this  life,  before 
he  is  well  awake  here,  he  arrives  at  the  world  below,  and  has 
his  final  quietus. 

In  all  that  I should  most  certainly  agree  with  you. 

And  surely  you  would  not  have  the  children  of  your  ideal 
State,  whom  you  are  nurturing  and  educating — if  the  ideal 
ever  becomes  a reality — you  would  not  allow  the  future  rulers 
to  be  like  posts,^  having  no  reason  in  them,  and  yet  to  be  set  in 
authority  over  the  highest  matters? 

Certainly  not. 

Then  you  will  make  a law  that  they  shall  have  such  an  edu- 
cation as  will  enable  them  to  attain  the  greatest  skill  in  asking 
and  answering  questions  ? 

Yes,  he  said,  you  and  I together  will  make  it. 

Dialectic,  then,  as  you  will  agree,  is  the  coping-stone  of  the 
sciences,  and  is  set  over  them ; no  other  science  can  be  placed 
higher — the  nature  of  knowledge  can  no  further  go? 

I agree,  he  said. 

But  to  whom  we  are  to  assign  these  studies,  and  in  what  way 
they  are  to  be  assigned,  are  questions  which  remain  to  be  con- 
sidered. 

Yes,  clearly. 

You  remember,  I said,  how  the  rulers  were  chosen  before? 

Certainly,  he  said. 

The  same  natures  must  still  be  chosen,  and  the  preference 
again  given  to  the  surest  and  the  bravest,  and,  if  possible,  to  the 
fairest;  and,  having  noble  and  generous  tempers,  they  should 
also  have  the  natural  gifts  which  will  facilitate  their  education. 

And  what  are  these? 

Such  gifts  as  keenness  and  ready  powers  of  acquisition;  for^  \ 

» ypaiifiai,  literally  “ lines,”  probably  the  starting-point  of  a race-course. 


THE  REPUBLIC 


233 


the  mind  more  often  faints  from  the  severity  of  study  than 
from  the  severity  of  gymnastics;  the  toil  is  more  entirely  the 
mind’s  own,  and  is  not  shared  with  the  body. 

Very  true,  he  replied. 

Further,  he  of  whom  we  are  in  search  should  have  a good 
memory,  and  be  an  unwearied  solid  man  who  is  a lover  of  labor 
in  any  line ; or  he  will  never  be  able  to  endure  the  great  amount 
of  bodily  exercise  and  to  go  through  all  the  intellectual  disci- 
pline and  study  which  we  require  of  him. 

Certainly,  he  said;  he  must  have  natural  gifts. 

The  mistake  at  present  is  that  those  who  study  philosophy 
have  no  vocation,  and  this,  as  I was  before  saying,  is  the  reason 
why  she  has  fallen  into  disrepute:  her  true  sons  should  take 
her  by  the  hand,  and  not  bastards. 

What  do  you  mean? 

In  the  first  place,  her  votary  should  not  have  a lame  or  halt- 
ing industry — I mean,  that  he  should  not  be  half  industrious 
and  half  idle : as,  for  example,  when  a man  is  a lover  of  gym- 
nastics and  hunting,  and  all  other  bodily  exercises,  but  a hater 
rather  than  a lover  of  the  labor  of  learning  or  listening  or  in- 
quiring. Or  the  occupation  to  which  he  devotes  himself  may 
be  of  an  opposite  kind,  and  he  may  have  the  other  sort  of  lame- 
ness. 

Certainly,  he  said. 

And  as  to  truth,  I said,  is  not  a soul  equally  to  be  deemed 
halt  and  lame  which  hates  voluntary  falsehood  and  is  extremely 
indignant  at  herself  and  others  when  they  tell  lies,  but  is  patient 
of  involuntary  falsehood,  and  does  not  mind  wallowing  like  a 
swinish  beast  in  the  mire  of  ignorance,  and  has  no  shame  at 
being  detected? 

To  be  sure. 

And,  again,  in  respect  of  temperance,  courage,  magnificence, 
and  every  other  virtue,  should  we  not  carefully  distinguish  be- 
tween the  true  son  and  the  bastard  ? for  where  there  is  no  dis- 
cernment of  such  qualities,  States  and  individuals  uncon- 
sciously err ; and  the  State  makes  a ruler,  and  the  individual  a 
friend,  of  one  who,  being  defective  in  some  part  of  virtue, 
is  in  a figure  lame  or  a bastard. 

That  is  very  true,  he  said. 

All  these  things,  then,  will  have  to  be  carefully  considered 


234 


PLATO 


by  us ; and  if  only  those  whom  we  introduce  to  this  vast  system 
of  education  and  training  are  sound  in  body  and  mind,  justice 
herself  will  have  nothing  to  say  against  us,  and  we  shall  be  the 
saviours  of  the  constitution  and  of  the  State ; but,  if  our  pupils 
are  men  of  another  stamp,  the  reverse  will  happen,  and  we 
shall  pour  a still  greater  flood  of  ridicule  on  philosophy  than 
she  has  to  endure  at  present. 

That  would  not  be  creditable. 

Certainly  not,  I said ; and  yet  perhaps,  in  thus  turning  jest 
into  earnest  I am  equally  ridiculous. 

In  what  respect  ? 

I had  forgotten,  I said,  that  we  were  not  serious,  and  spoke 
with  too  much  excitement.  For  when  I saw  philosophy  so 
undeservedly  trampled  under  foot  of  men  I could  not  help  feel- 
ing a sort  of  indignation  at  the  authors  of  her  disgrace : and  my 
anger  made  me  too  vehement. 

Indeed ! I was  listening,  and  did  not  think  so. 

But  I,  who  am  the  speaker,  felt  that  I was.  And  now  let 
me  remind  you  that,  although  in  our  former  selection  we  chose 
old  men,  we  must  not  do  so  in  this.  Solon  was  under  a delu- 
sion when  he  said  that  a man  when  he  grows  old  may  learn 
many  things — for  he  can  no  more  learn  much  than  he  can  run 
much ; youth  is  the  time  for  any  extraordinary  toil. 

Of  course. 

And,  therefore,  calculation  and  geometry  and  all  the  other 
elements  of  instruction,  which  are  a preparation  for  dialectic, 
should  be  presented  to  the  mind  in  childhood;  not,  however, 
under  any  notion  of  forcing  our  system  of  education. 

Why  not  ? 

Because  a freeman  ought  not  to  be  a slave  in  the  acquisition 
of  knowledge  of  any  kind.  Bodily  exercise,  when  compulsory, 
does  no  harm  to  the  body;  but  knowledge  which  is  acquired 
under  compulsion  obtains  no  hold  on  the  mind. 

Very  true. 

Then,  my  good  friend,  I said,  do  not  use  compulsion,  but 
let  early  education  be  a sort  of  amusement ; you  will  then  be 
better  able  to  find  out  the  natural  bent. 

That  is  a very  rational  notion,  he  said. 

Do  you  remember  that  the  children,  too,  were  to  be  taken 
to  see  the  battle  on  horseback ; and  that  if  there  were  no  danger 


THE  REPUBLIC 


235 


they  were  to  be  brought  close  up  and,  like  young  hounds,  have 
a taste  of  blood  given  them  ? 

Yes,  I remember. 

The  same  practice  may  be  followed,  I said,  in  all  these  things 
— labors,  lessons,  dangers — and  he  who  is  most  at  home  in  all 
of  them  ought  to  be  enrolled  in  a select  number. 

At  what  age  ? 

At  the  age  when  the  necessary  gymnastics  are  over:  the 
period,  whether  of  two  or  three  years,  which  passes  in  this  sort 
of  training  is  useless  for  any  other  purpose ; for  sleep  and  ex- 
ercise are  unpropitious  to  learning ; and  the  trial  of  who  is  first 
in  gymnastic  exercises  is  one  of  the  most  important  tests  to 
which  our  youth'^are  subjected. 

Certainly,  he  replied. 

After  that  time  those  who  are  selected  from  the  class  of 
twenty  years  old  v/ill  be  promoted  to  higher  honor,  and  the 
sciences  which  they  learned  without  any  order  in  their  early 
education  will  now  be  brought  together,  and  they  will  be  able 
to  see  the  natural  relationship  of  them  to  one  another  and  to 
true  being. 

Yes,  he  said^  that  is  the  only  kind  of  knowledge  which  takes 
lasting  root. 

Yes,  I said ; and  the  capacity  for  such  knowledge  is  the  great 
criterion  of  dialectical  talent : the  comprehensive  mind  is  always 
the  dialectical. 

I agree  with  you,  he  said. 

These,  I said,  are  the  points  which  you  must  consider;  and 
those  who  have  most  of  this  comprehension,  and  who  are  most 
steadfast  in  their  learning,  and  in  their  military  and  other  ap- 
pointed duties,  when  they  have  arrived  at  the  age  of  thirty  will 
have  to  be  chosen  by  you  out  of  the  select  class,  and  elevated 
to  higher  honor ; and  you  will  have  to  prove  them  by  the  help 
of  dialectic,  in  order  to  learn  which  of  them  is  able  to  give  up 
the  use  of  sight  and  the  other  senses,  and  in  company  with  truth 
to  attain  absolute  being : And  here^  my  friend,  great  caution  is 
required. 

Why  great  caution  ? 

Do  you  not  remark,  I said,  how  great  is  the  evil  which  dia- 
lectic has  introduced? 

What  evil  ? he  said. 


PLATO 


236 

The  students  of  the  art  are  filled  with  lawlessness. 

Quite  true,  he  said. 

Do  you  think  that  there  is  anything  so  very  unnatural  or  in- 
excusable in  their  case  ? or  will  you  make  allowance  for  them  ? 

In  what  way  make  allowance? 

I want  you,  I said,  by  way  of  parallel,  to  imagine  a suppo- 
sititious son  who  is  brought  up  in  great  wealth ; he  is  one  of  a 
great  and  numerous  family,  and  has  many  flatterers.  When 
he  grows  up  to  manhood,  he  learns  that  his  alleged  are  not  his 
real  parents ; but  who  the  real  are  he  is  unable  to  discover.  Can 
you  guess  how  he  will  be  likely  to  behave  toward  his  flatterers 
and  his  supposed  parents,  first  of  all  during  the  period  when  he 
is  ignorant  of  the  false  relation,  and  then  again  when  he  knows  ? 
Or  shall  I guess  for  you  ? 

If  you  please. 

Then  I should  say  that  while  he  is  ignorant  of  the  truth  he 
will  be  likely  to  honor  his  father  and  his  mother  and  his  sup- 
posed relations  more  than  the  flatterers ; he  will  be  less  inclined 
to  neglect  them  when  in  need,  or  to  do  or  say  anything  against 
them ; and  he  will  be  less  willing  to  disobey  them  in  any  im- 
portant matter. 

He  will. 

But  when  he  has  made  the  discovery,  I should  imagine  that 
he  would  diminish  his  honor  and  regard  for  them,  and  would 
become  more  devoted  to  the  flatterers ; their  influence  over  him 
would  greatly  increase ; he  would  now  live  after  their  ways,  and 
openly  associate  with  them,  and,  unless  he  were  of  an  unusually 
good  disposition,  he  would  trouble  himself  no  more  about  his 
supposed  parents  or  other  relations. 

Well,  all  that  is  very  probable.  But  how  is  the  image  appli- 
cable to  the  disciples  of  philosophy  ? 

In  this  way : you  know  that  there  are  certain  principles  about 
justice  and  honor,  which  were  taught  us  in  childhood,  and 
under  their  parental  authority  we  have  been  brought  up,  obey- 
ing and  honoring  them. 

That  is  true. 

There  are  also  opposite  maxims  and  habits  of  pleasure  which 
flatter  and  attract  the  soul,  but  do  not  influence  those  of  us 
who  have  any  sense  of  right,  and  they  continue  to  obey  and 
honor  the  maxims  of  their  fathers. 


THE  REPUBLIC 


*37 


True. 

Now,  when  a man  is  in  this  state,  and  the  questioning  spirit 
asks  what  is  fair  or  honorable,  and  he  answers  as  the  legislator 
has  taught  him,  and  then  arguments  many  and  diverse  refute 
his  words,  until  he  is  driven  into  believing  that  nothing  is 
honorable  any  more  than  dishonorable,  or  just  and  good  any 
more  than  the  reverse,  and  so  of  all  the  notions  which  he  most 
valued,  do  you  think  that  he  will  still  honor  and  obey  them  as 
before  ? 

Impossible. 

And  when  he  ceases  to  think  them  honorable  and  natural 
as  heretofore,  and  he  fails  to  discover  the  true,  can  he  be  ex- 
pected to  pursue  any  life  other  than  that  which  flatters  his 
desires  ? 

He  cannot. 

And  from  being  a keeper  of  the  law  he  is  converted  into  a 
breaker  of  it  ? 

Unquestionably. 

Now  all  this  is  very  natural  in  students  of  philosophy  such 
as  I have  described^  and  also,  as  I was  just  now  saying,  most 
excusable. 

Yes,  he  said;  and,  I may  add,  pitiable. 

Therefore,  that  your  feelings  may  not  be  moved  to  pity  about 
our  citizens  who  are  now  thirty  years  of  age,  every  care  must 
be  taken  in  introducing  them  to  dialectic. 

Certainly. 

There  is  a danger  lest  they  should  taste  the  dear  delight  too 
early;  for  youngsters,  as  you  may  have  observed,  when  they 
first  get  the  taste  in  their  mouths,  argue  for  amusement,  and 
are  always  contradicting  and  refuting  others  in  imitation  of 
those  who  refute  them;  like  puppy-dogs,  they  rejoice  in  pull- 
ing and  tearing  at  all  who  come  near  them. 

Yes,  he  said,  there  is  nothing  which  they  like  better. 

And  when  they  have  made  many  conquests  and  received  de- 
feats at  the  hands  of  many,  they  violently  and  speedily  get  into 
a way  of  not  believing  anything  which  they  believed  before, 
and  hence,  not  only  they,  but  philosophy  and  all  that  relates  to 
it  is  apt  to  have  a bad  name  with  the  rest  of  the  world. 

Too  true,  he  said. 

But  when  a man  begins  to  get  older,  he  will  no  longer  be 


238 


PLATO 


guilty  of  such  insanity ; he  will  imitate  the  dialectician  who  is 
seeking  for  truth,  and  not  the  eristic,  who  is  contradicting  for 
the  sake  of  amusement ; and  the  greater  moderation  of  his  char- 
acter will  increase  instead  of  diminishing  the  honor  of  the  pur- 
suit. 

Very  true,  he  said. 

And  did  we  not  make  special  provision  for  this,  when  we 
said  that  the  disciples  of  philosophy  were  to  be  orderly  and 
steadfast,  not,  as  now,  any  chance  aspirant  or  intruder? 

Very  true. 

Suppose,  I said,  the  study  of  philosophy  to  take  the  place  of 
gymnastics  and  to  be  continued  diligently  and  earnestly  and 
exclusively  for  twice  the  number  of  years  which  were  passed 
in  bodily  exercise — will  that  be  enough? 

Would  you  say  six  or  four  years?  he  asked. 

Say  five  years,  I replied ; at  the  end  of  the  time  they  must 
be  sent  down  again  into  the  den  and  compelled  to  hold  any  mil- 
itary or  other  office  which  young  men  are  qualified  to  hold : in 
this  way  they  will  get  their  experience  of  life,  and  there  will  be 
an  opportunity  of  trying  whether,  when  they  are  drawn  all 
manner  of  ways  by  temptation,  they  will  stand  firm  or  flinch. 

And  how  long  is  this  stage  of  their  lives  to  last? 

Fifteen  years,  I answered;  and  when  they  have  reached  fifty 
years  of  age,  then  let  those  who  still  survive  and  have  distin- 
guished themselves  in  every  action  of  their  lives,  and  in  every 
branch  of  knowledge,  come  at  last  to  their  consummation : the 
time  has  now  arrived  at  which  they  must  raise  the  eye  of  the 
soul  to  the  universal  light  which  lightens  all  things,  and  behold 
the  absolute  good ; for  that  is  the  pattern  according  to  which 
they  are  to  order  the  State  and  the  lives  of  individuals,  and  the 
remainder  of  their  own  lives  also;  making  philosophy  their 
chief  pursuit,  but,  when  their  turn  comes,  toiling  also  at  politics 
and  ruling  for  the  public  good,  not  as  though  they  were  per- 
forming some  heroic  action,  but  simply  as  a matter  of  duty; 
and  when  they  have  brought  up  in  each  generation  others  like 
themselves  and  left  them  in  their  place  to  be  governors  of  the 
State,  then  they  will  depart  to  the  Islands  of  the  Blessed  and 
dwell  there ; and  the  city  will  give  them  public  memorials  and 
sacrifices  and  honor  them,  if  the  Pythian  oracle  consent,  as 
demigods,  but  if  not,  as  in  any  case  blessed  and  divine. 


THE  REPUBLIC 


^39 


You  are  a sculptor,  Socrates,  and  have  made  statues  of  our 
governors  faultless  in  beauty. 

Yes,  I said,  Glaucon,  and  of  our  governesses  too;  for  you 
must  not  suppose  that  what  I have  been  saying  applies  to  men 
only  and  not  to  women  as  far  as  their  natures  can  go. 

There  you  are  right,  he  said,  since  we  have  made  them  to 
share  in  all  things  like  the  men. 

Well,  I said,  and  you  would  agree  (would  you  not?)  that 
what  has  been  said  about  the  State  and  the  government  is  not 
a mere  dream,  and  although  difficult,  not  impossible,  but  only 
possible  in  the  way  which  has  been  supposed;  that  is  to  say, 
when  the  true  philosopher-kings  are  born  in  a State,  one  or 
more  of  them,  despising  the  honors  of  this  present  world  which 
they  deem  mean  and  worthless,  esteeming  above  all  things  right 
and  the  honor  that  springs  from  right,  and  regarding  justice 
as  the  greatest  and  most  necessary  of  all  things,  whose  minis- 
ters they  are,  and  whose  principles  will  be  exalted  by  them 
when  they  set  in  order  their  own  city  ? 

How  will  they  proceed  ? 

They  will  begin  by  sending  out  into  the  country  all  the  in- 
habitants of  the  city  who  are  more  than  ten  years  old,  and  will 
take  possession  of  their  children,  who  will  be  unaffected  by  the 
habits  of  their  parents ; these  they  will  train  in  their  own  habits 
and  laws,  I mean  in  the  laws  which  we  have  given  them : and  in 
this  way  the  State  and  constitution  of  which  we  were  speaking 
will  soonest  and  most  easily  attain  happiness,  and  the  nation 
which  has  such  a constitution  will  gain  most. 

Yes,,  that  will  be  the  best  way.  And  I think,  Socrates,  that 
you  have  very  well  described  how,  if  ever,  such  a constitution 
might  come  into  being. 

Enough,  then,  of  the  perfect  State,  and  of  the  man  who  bears 
its  image — there  is  no  difficulty  in  seeing  how  we  shall  describe 
him. 

There  is  no  difficulty,  he  replied;  and  I agree  with  you  in 
thinking  that  nothing  more  need  be  said. 


BOOK  VIII 

FOUR  FORMS  OF  GOVERNMENT 


Socrates,  Glaucon 

And  so,  Glaucon,  we  have  arrived  at  the  conclusion  that 
in  the  perfect  State  wives  and  children  are  to  be  in  com- 
mon; and  that  all  education  and  the  pursuits  of  war 
and  peace  are  also  to  be  common,  and  the  best  philosophers  and 
the  bravest  warriors  are  to  be  their  kings  ? 

That,  replied  Glaucon,  has  been  acknowledged. 

Yes,  I said;  and  we  have  further  acknowledged  that  the 
governors,  when  appointed  themselves,  will  take  their  soldiers 
and  place  them  in  houses  such  as  we  were  describing,  which 
are  common  to  all,  and  contain  nothing  private,  or  individual ; 
and  about  their  property,  you  remember  what  we  agreed  ? 

Yes,  I remember  that  no  one  was  to  have  any  of  the  ordinary 
possessions  of  mankind ; they  were  to  be  warrior  athletes  and 
guardians,  receiving  from  the  other  citizens,  in  lieu  of  annual 
payment,  only  their  maintenance,  and  they  were  to  take  care  of 
themselves  and  of  the  whole  State. 

True,  I said;  and  now  that  this  division  of  our  task  is  con- 
cluded, let  us  find  the  point  at  which  we  digressed,  that  we  may 
return  into  the  old  path. 

There  is  no  difficulty  in  returning ; you  implied,  then  as  now, 
that  you  had  finished  the  description  of  the  State : you  said  that 
such  a State  was  good,  and  that  the  man  was  good  who  an- 
swered to  it,  although,  as  now  appears,  you  had  more  excellent 
things  to  relate  both  of  State  and  man.  And  you  said  further, 
that  if  this  was  the  true  form,  then  the  others  were  false;  and 
of  the  false  forms,  you  said,  as  I remember,  that  there  were 
four  principal  ones,  and  that  their  defects,  and  the  defects  of 
the  individuals  corresponding  to  them,  were  worth  examining. 

240 


THE  REPUBLIC 


241 


When  we  had  seen  all  the  individuals,  and  finally  agreed  as  to 
who  was  the  best  and  who  was  the  worst  of  them,  we  were  to 
consider  whether  the  best  was  not  also  the  happiest,  and  the 
worst  the  most  miserable.  I asked  you  what  were  the  four 
forms  of  government  of  which  you  spoke,  and  then  Polemar- 
chus  and  Adeimantus  put  in  their  word;  and  you  began  again, 
and  have  found  your  way  to  the  point  at  which  we  have  now 
arrived. 

Your  recollection,  I said,  is  most  exact. 

Then,  like  a wrestler,  he  replied,  you  must  put  yourself  again 
in  the  same  position ; and  let  me  ask  the  same  questions,  and  do 
you  give  me  the  same  answer  which  you  were  about  to  give  me 
then. 

Yes,  if  I can,  I will,  I said. 

I shall  particularly  wish  to  hear  what  were  the  four  consti- 
tutions of  which  you  were  speaking. 

That  question,  I said,  is  easily  answered:  the  four  govern- 
ments of  which  I spoke,  so  far  as  they  have  distinct  names,  are 
first,  those  of  Crete  and  Sparta,  which  are  generally  applauded ; 
what  is  termed  oligarchy  comes  next;  this  is  not  equally  ap- 
proved, and  is  a form  of  government  which  teems  with  evils : 
thirdly,  democracy,  which  naturally  follows  oligarchy,  although 
very  different:  and  lastly  comes  tyranny,  great  and  famous, 
which  differs  from  them  all,  and  is  the  fourth  and  worst  dis- 
order of  a State.  I do  not  know,  do  you  ? of  any  other  consti- 
tution which  can  be  said  to  have  a distinct  character.  There 
are  lordships  and  principalities  which  are  bought  and  sold,  and 
some  other  intermediate  forms  of  government.  But  these  are 
nondescripts  and  may  be  found  equally  among  Hellenes  and 
among  barbarians. 

Yes,  he  replied,  we  certainly  hear  of  many  curious  forms  of 
government  which  exist  among  them. 

Do  you  know,  I said,  that  governments  vary  as  the  disposi- 
tions of  men  vary,  and  that  there  must  be  as  many  of  the  one 
as  there  are  of  the  other?  For  we  cannot  suppose  that  States 
are  made  of  ‘‘  oak  and  rock,’’  and  not  out  of  the  human  natures 
which  are  in  them,  and  which  in  a figure  turn  the  scale  and 
draw  other  things  after  them? 

Yes,  he  said,  the  States  are  as  the  men  are;  they  grow  out  of 
human  characters. 


243 


PLATO 


Then  if  the  constitutions  of  States  are  five,  the  dispositions 
of  individual  minds  will  also  be  five  ? 

Certainly. 

Him  who  answers  to  aristocracy,  and  whom  we  rightly  call 
just  and  good,  we  have  already  described. 

We  have. 

Then  let  us  now  proceed  to  describe  the  inferior  sort  of  nat- 
ures, being  the  contentious  and  ambitious,  v^ho  answer  to  the 
Spartan  polity;  also  the  oligarchical,  demccratical,  and  tyran- 
nical. Let  us  place  the  most  just  by  the  side  of  the  most  un- 
just, and  when  we  see  them  we  shall  be  able  to  compare  the 
relative  happiness  or  unhappiness  of  him  who  leads  a life  of 
pure  justice  or  pure  injustice.  The  inquiry  will  then  be  com- 
pleted. And  we  shall  know  whether  we  ought  to  pursue  injus- 
tice, as  Thrasymachus  advises,  or  in  accordance  with  the  con- 
clusions of  the  argument  to  prefer  justice. 

Certainly,  he  replied,  we  must  do  as  you  say. 

Shall  we  follow  our  old  plan,  which  we  adopted  with  a view 
to  clearness,  of  taking  the  State  first  and  then  proceeding  to 
the  individual,  and  begin  with  the  government  of  honor? — I 
know  of  no  name  for  such  a government  other  than  timocracy 
or  perhaps  timarchy.  We  will  compare  with  this  the  like 
character  in  the  individual ; and,  after  that,  consider  oligarchy 
and  the  oligarchical  man;  and  then  again  we  will  turn  our 
attention  to  democracy  and  the  democratical  man;  and  lastly, 
we  will  go  and  view  the  city  of  tyranny,  and  once  more  take  a 
look  into  the  tyrant’s  soul,  and  try  to  arrive  at  a satisfactory 
decision. 

That  way  of  viewing  and  judging  of  the  matter  will  be  very 
suitable. 

First,  then,  I said,  let  us  inquire  how  timocracy  (the  govern- 
ment of  honor)  arises  out  of  aristocracy  (the  government  of 
the  best).  Clearly,  all  political  changes  originate  in  divisions 
of  the  actual  governing  power ; a government  which  is  united, 
however  small,  cannot  be  moved. 

Very  true,  he  said. 

In  what  way,  then,  will  our  city  be  moved,  and  in  what  man- 
ner will  the  two  classes  of  auxiliaries  and  rulers  disagree  among 
themselves  or  with  one  another?  Shall  we,  after  the  manner 
of  Homer,  pray  the  muses  to  tell  us  ‘‘  how  discord  first  arose  ” ? 


THE  REPUBLIC 


243 


Shall  we  imagine  them  in  solemn  mockery,  to  play  and  jest 
with  us  as  if  we  were  children,  and  to  address  us  in  a lofty 
tragic  vein,  making  believe  to  be  in  earnest  ? 

How  would  they  address  us  ? 

After  this  manner:  A city  which  is  thus  constituted  can 
hardly  be  shaken ; but,  seeing  that  everything  which  has  a be- 
ginning has  also  an  end,  even  a constitution  such  as  yours  will 
not  last  forever,  but  will  in  time  be  dissolved.  And  this  is  the 
dissolution : In  plants  that  grow  in  the  earth,  as  well  as  in  ani- 
mals that  move  on  the  earth’s  surface,  fertility  and  sterility  of 
soul  and  body  occur  when  the  circumferences  of  the  circles  of 
each  are  completed,  which  in  short-lived  existences  pass  over 
a short  space,  and  in  long-lived  ones  over  a long  space.  But  to 
the  knowledge  of  human  fecundity  and  sterility  all  the  wisdom 
and  education  of  your  rulers  will  not  attain;  the  laws  which 
regulate  them  will  not  be  discovered  by  an  intelligence  which 
is  alloyed  with  sense,  but  will  escape  them,  and  they  will  bring 
children  into  the  world  when  they  ought  not.  Now  that  which 
is  of  divine  birth  has  a period  which  is  contained  in  a perfect 
number,^  but  the  period  of  human  birth  is  comprehended  in  a 
number  in  which  first  increments  by  involution  and  evolution 
(or  squared  and  cubed)  obtaining  three  intervals  and  four 
terms  of  like  and  unlike,  waxing  and  waning  numbers,  make 
all  the  terms  commensurable  and  agreeable  to  one  another.^ 
The  base  of  these  (3)  with  a third  added  (4),  when  combined 
with  five  (20)  and  raised  to  the  third  power,  furnishes  two  har- 
monies; the  first  a square  which  is  100  times  as  great  (400  = 
4 X 100),^  and  the  other  a figure  having  one  side  equal  to  the 
former,  but  oblong,^  consisting  of  100  numbers  squared  upon 
rational  diameters  of  a square  omitting  fractions),  the 

side  of  which  is  five  (7  X 7 = 49  X 100  = 4900),  each  of  them 
being  less  by  one  (than  the  perfect  square  which  includes  the 
fractions,  sc.  50)  or  less  by  ® two  perfect  squares  of  irrational 
diameters  (of  a square  the  side  of  which  is  five  =50  + 50  = 

> I.e.,  a cyclical  number,  such  as  6,  which  is  equal  to  the  sum  of  its  divisors,  i,  2,  so 
that  when  the  circle  3r  time  represented  by  6 is  completed,  the  lesser  times  or  rotations 
represented  by  i,  2 3 are  also  completed. 

* Probably  the  numbers  3,  4,  s,  6,  of  which  the  three  first  = the  sides  of  the  Pythagorean 
triangle.  The  terms  will  then  be  3®,  4*,  5®,  which  together  = 6®  = 216. 

® Or  the  first  a square,  which  is  100  x 100  = 10000.  The  whole  number  will  then  be  17, 
500  = a square  of  100  and  an  oblong  of  100  by  75. 

* Reading  irpofjLTjKti  fie. 

® Or,  “consisting  of  two  numbers  squared  upon  irrational  diameters,”  etc.  = 100.  For 
other  explanations  of  the  passage  see  Introduction. 


244 


PLATO 


loo)  ; and  lOO  cubes  of  three  (27  X 100  = 2700  4-  4900  + 
400  — 8000).  Now  this  number  represents  a geometrical 
figure  which  has  control  over  the  good  and  evil  of  births.  For 
when  your  guardians  are  ignorant  of  the  law  of  births,  and 
unite  bride  and  bridegroom  out  of  season,  the  children  will  not 
be  goodly  or  fortunate.  And  though  only  the  best  of  them  will 
be  appointed  by  their  predecessor,  still  they  will  be  unworthy 
to  hold  their  father’s  places,  and  when  they  come  into  power 
as  guardians  they  will  soon  be  found  to  fail  in  taking  care  of 
us,  the  muses,  first  by  undervaluing  music ; which  neglect  will 
soon  extend  to  gymnastics ; and  hence  the  young  men  of  your 
State  will  be  less  cultivated.  In  the  succeeding  generation 
rulers  will  be  appointed  who  have  lost  the  guardian  power  of 
testing  the  metal  of  your  different  races,  which,  like  Hesiod’s, 
are  of  gold  and  silver  and  brass  and  iron.  . And  so  iron  will  be 
mingled  with  silver,  and  brass  with  gold,  and  hence  there  will 
arise  dissimilarity  and  inequality  and  irregularity,  which  always 
and  in  all  places  are  causes  of  hatred  and  war.  This  the  muses 
affirm  to  be  the  stock  from  which  discord  has  sprung,  wherever 
arising ; and  this  is  their  answer  to  us.\ 

Yes,  and  we  may  assume  that  they  answer  truly. 

Why,  yes,  I said,  of  course  they  answer  truly ; how  can  the 
muses  speak  falsely? 

And  what  do  the  muses  say  next  ? 

When  discord  arose,  then  the  two  races  were  drawn  different 
ways : the  iron  and  brass  fell  to  acquiring  money,  and  land,  and 
houses,  and  gold,  and  silver ; but  the  gold  and  silver  races,  not 
wanting  money,  but  having  the  true  riches  in  their  own  nature, 
inclined  toward  virtue  and  the  ancient  order  of  things.  There 
was  a battle  between  them,  and  at  last  they  agreed  to  distribute 
their  land  and  houses  among  individual  owners;  and  they  en- 
slaved their  friends  and  maintainers,  whom  they  had  formerly 
protected  in  the  condition  of  freemen,  and  made  of  them  sub- 
jects and  servants;  and  they  themselves  were  engaged  in  war 
and  in  keeping  a watch  against  them. 

I believe  that  you  have  rightly  conceived  the  origin  of  the 
change. 

And  the  new  government  which  thus  arises  will  be  of  a 
form  intermediate  between  oligarchy  and  aristocracy? 

Very  true. 


THE  REPUBLIC 


24S 


Such  will  be  the  change,  and  after  the  change  has  been  made, 
/how  will  they  proceed?  Clearly,  the  new  State,  being  in  a 
' mean  between  oligarchy  and  the  perfect  State,  will  partly  foL 
low  one  and  partly  the  other,  and  will  also  have  some  pecul- 
iarities. 

True,  he  said. 


In  the  honor  given  to  rulers,  in  the  abstinence  of  the  warrior- 
class  from  agriculture,  handicrafts,  and  trade  in  general,  in  the 
institution  of  common  meals,  and  in  the  attention  paid  to  gym- 
nastics and  military  training — in  all  these  respects  this  State 
will  resemble  the  former. 


True. 


But  in  the  fear  of  admitting  philosophers  to  power,  because 
they  are  no  longer  to  be  had  simple  and  earnest,  but  are  made 
up  of  mixed  elements ; and  in  turning  from  them  to  passionate 
and  less  complex  characters,  who  are  by  nature  fitted  for  war 
rather  than  peace ; and  in  the  value  set  by  them  upon  military 
stratagems  and  contrivances,  and  in  the  waging  of  everlasting 
wars — this  State  will  be  for  the  most  part  peculiar. 


Yes. 


Yes,  I said ; and  men  of  this  stamp  will  be  covetous  of  money, 
like  those  who  live  in  oligarchies ; they  will  have  a fierce  secret 
longing  after  gold  and  silver,  which  they  will  hoard  in  dark 
places,  having  magazines  and  treasuries  of  their  own  for  the  de- 
posit and  concealment  of  them;  also  castles  which  are  just 
nests  for  their  eggs,  and  in  which  they  will  spend  large  sums 
on  their  wives,  or  on  any  others  whom  they  please. 

That  is  most  true,  he  said. 

And  they  are  miserly  because  they  have  no  means  of  openly 
acquiring  the  money  which  they  prize;  they  will  spend  that 
which  is  another  man’s  on  the  gratification  of  their  desires, 
stealing  their  pleasures  and  running  away  like  children  from 
the  law,  their  father:  they  have  been  schooled  not  by  gentle 
influences  but  by  force,  for  they  have  neglected  her  who  is  the 
true  muse,  the  companion  of  reason  and  philosophy,  and  have 
honored  gymnastics  more  than  music. 

Undoubtedly,  he  said,  the  form  of  government  which  you 
describe  is  a mixture  of  good  and  evil. 

Why,  there  is  a mixture,  I said ; but  one  thing,  and  one  thing 
only,  is  predominantly  seen — the  spirit  of  contention  and  am- 


24^ 


PLATO 


bition ; and  these  are  due  to  the  prevalence  of  the  passionate  or 
spirited  element. 

Assuredly,  he  said. 

Such  is  the  origin  and  such  the  character  of  this  State,  which 
has  been  described  in  outline  only ; the  more  perfect  execution 
was  not  required,  for  a sketch  is  enough  to  show  the  type  of 
the  most  perfectly  just  and  most  perfectly  unjust;  and  to  go 
through  all  the  States  and  all  the  characters  of  men,  omitting 
none  of  them,  would  be  an  interminable  labor. 

Very  true,  he  replied. 

Now  what  man  answers  to  this  form  of  government — ^how 
did  he  come  into  being,  and  what  is  he  like  ? 

I think,  said  Adeimantus,  that  in  the  spirit  of  contention 
which  characterizes  him,  he  is  not  unlike  our  friend  Glaucon. 

Perhaps,  I said,  he  may  be  like  him  in  that  one  point;  but 
there  are  other  respects  in  which  he  is  very  different. 

In  what  respects  ? 

He  should  have  more  of  self-assertion  and  be  less  cultivated 
and  yet  a friend  of  culture ; and  he  should  be  a good  listener  but 
no  speaker.  Such  a person  is  apt  to  be  rough  with  slaves,  un- 
like the  educated  man,  who  is  too  proud  for  that;  and  he 
will  also  be  courteous  to  freemen,  and  remarkably  obedient  to 
authority ; he  is  a lover  of  power  and  a lover  of  honor ; claiming 
to  be  a ruler,  not  because  he  is  eloquent,  or  on  any  ground  of 
that  sort,  but  because  he  is  a soldier  and  has  performed  feats  of 
arms ; he  is  also  a lover  of  gymnastic  exercises  and  of  the  chase. 

Yes,  that  is  the  type  of  character  that  answers  to  tirnocrat^ 

Such  a one  will  despise  riches  only  when  he  is  young;  but 
as  he  gets  older  he  will  be  more  and  more  attracted  to  them, 
because  he  has  a piece  of  the  avaricious  nature  in  him,  and  is 
not  single-minded  toward  virtue,  having  lost  his  best  guardian. 

Who  was  that  ? said  Adeimantus. 

Philosophy,  I said,  tempered  with  music,  who  comes  and 
takes  up  her  abode  in  a man,  and  is  the  only  saviour  of  his  vir- 
tue throughout  life. 

Good,  he  said. 

Such,  I said,  is  the  timocratical  youth,  and  he  is  like  the  timo- 
cratical  State. 

Exactly. 

His  origin  is  as  follows:  He  is  often  the  young  son  of  a 


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247 


brave  father,  who  dwells  in  an  ill-governed  city,  of  which  he 
declines  the  honors  and  offices,  and  will  not  go  to  law,  or  exert 
himself  in  any  way,  but  is  ready  to  waive  his  rights  in  order 
that  he  may  escape  trouble. 

And  how  does  the  son  come  into  being? 

The  character  of  the  son  begins  to  develop  when  he  hears 
his  mother  complaining  that  her  husband  has  no  place  in  the 
government,  of  which  the  consequence  is  that  she  has  no  prece- 
dence among  other  women.  Further,  when  she  sees  her  hus- 
band not  very  eager  about  money,  and  instead  of  battling  and 
railing  in  the  law  courts  or  assembly,  taking  whatever  happens 
to  him  quietly ; and  when  she  observes  that  his  thoughts  always 
centre  in  himself,  while  he  treats  her  with  very  considerable 
indifference,  she  is  annoyed,  and  says  to  her  son  that  his  father 
is  only  half  a man  and  far  too  easy-going : adding  all  the  other 
complaints  about  her  own  ill-treatment  which  women  are  so 
fond  of  rehearsing. 

Yes,  said  Adeimantus,  they  give  us  plenty  of  them,  and  their 
complaints  are  so  like  themselves. 

And  you  know,  I said,  that  the  old  servants  also,  who  are 
supposed  to  be  attached  to  the  family,  from  time  to  time  talk 
privately  in  the  same  strain  to  the  son ; and  if  they  see  anyone 
who  owes  money  to  his  father,  or  is  wronging  him  in  any  way, 
and  he  fails  to  prosecute  them,  they  tell  the  youth  that  when 
he  grows  up  he  must  retaliate  upon  people  of  this  sort,  and  be 
more  of  a man  than  his  father.  He  has  only  to  walk  abroad 
and  he  hears  and  sees  the  same  sort  of  thing : those  who  do  their 
own  business  in  the  city  are  called  simpletons,  and  held  in  no 
esteem,  while  the  busy-bodies  are  honored  and  applauded.  The 
result  is  that  the  young  man,  hearing  and  seeing  all  these  things 
— hearing,  too,  the  words  of  his  father,  and  having  a nearer 
view  of  his  way  of  life,  and  making  comparisons  of  him  and 
others — is  drawn  opposite  ways:  while  his  father  is  watering 
and  nourishing  the  rational  principle  in  his  soul,  the  others  are 
encouraging  the  passionate  and  appetitive;  and  he  being  not 
originally  of  a bad  nature,  but  having  kept  bad  company,  is  at 
last  brought  by  their  joint  influence  to  a middle  point,  and  gives 
up  the  kingdom  which  is  within  him  to  the  middle  principle  of 
contentiousness  and  passion,  and  becomes  arrogant  and  ambi- 
tious. 

Classics.  Vol.  31 — 15 


243 


PLATO 


You  seem  to  me  to  have  described  his  origin  perfectly. 

Then  we  have  now,  I said,  the  second  form  of  government 
and  the  second  type  of  character  ? 

We  have. 

Next,  let  us  look  at  another  man  who,  as  ^schylus  says, 

“ Is  set  over  against  another  State; 

or  rather,  as  our  plan  requires,  begin  with  the  State. 

By  all  means. 

I believe  that  oligarchy  follows  next  in  order. 

And  what  manner  of  government  do  you  term  oligarchy? 

A government  resting  on  a valuation  of  property,  in  which 
the  rich  have  power  and  the  poor  man  is  deprived  of  it. 

I understand,  he  replied. 

Ought  I not  to  begin  by  describing  how  the  change  from 
timocracy  to  oligarchy  arises? 

Yes. 

Well,  I said,  no  eyes  are  required  in  order  to  see  how  the  one 
passes  into  the  other. 

How? 

The  accumulation  of  gold  in  the  treasury  of  private  individ- 
uals is  the  ruin  of  timocracy ; they  invent  illegal  modes  of  ex- 
penditure ; for  what  do  they  or  their  wives  care  about  the  law  ? 

Yes,  indeed. 

And  then  one,  seeing  another  grow  rich,  seeks  to  rival  him, 
and  thus  the  great  mass  of  the  citizens  become  lovers  of  money. 

Likely  enough. 

And  so  they  grow  richer  and  richer,  and  the  more  they  think 
of  making  a fortune  the  less  they  think  of  virtue;  for  when 
riches  and  virtue  are  placed  together  in  the  scales  of  the  balance 
the  one  always  rises  as  the  other  falls. 

True. 

And  in  proportion  as  riches  and  rich  men  are  honored  in  the 
State,  virtue  and  the  virtuous  are  dishonored. 

Clearly. 

And  what  is  honored  is  cultivated,  and  that  which  has  no 
honor  is  neglected. 

That  is  obvious. 

And  so  at  last,  instead  of  loving  contention  and  glory,  men 
become  lovers  of  trade  and  money ; they  honor  and  look  up  to 


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249 


the  rich  man,  and  make  a ruler  of  him,  and  dishonor  the  poor 
man. 

They  do  so. 

They  next  proceed  to  make  a law  which  fixes  a sum  of  money 
as  the  qualification  of  citizenship;  the  sum  is  higher  in  one 
place  and  lower  in  another,  as  the  oligarchy  is  more  or  less  ex- 
clusive; and  they  allow  no  one  whose  property  falls  below  the 
amount  fixed  to  have  any  share  in  the  government.  These 
changes  in  the  constitution  they  effect  by  force  of  arms,  if  in- 
timidation has  not  already  done  their  work. 

Very  true. 

And  this,  speaking  generally,  is  the  way  in  which  oligarchy 
is  established. 

Yes,  he  said ; but  what  are  the  characteristics  of  this  form  of 
government,  and  what  are  the  defects  of  which  we  were 
speaking  ? ^ 

First  of  all,  I said,  consider  the  nature  of  the  qualification. 
Just  think  what  would  happen  if  pilots  were  to  be  chosen  ac- 
cording to  their  property,  and  a poor  man  were  refused  permis- 
sion to  steer,  even  though  he  were  a better  pilot  ? 

You  mean  that  they  would  shipwreck? 

Yes;  and  is  not  this  true  of  the  government  of  anything?^ 

I should  imagine  so. 

Except  a city  ? — or  would  you  include  a city  ? 

Nay,  he  said,  the  case  of  a city  is  the  strongest  of  all,  inas- 
much as  the  rule  of  a city  is  the  greatest  and  most  difficult 
of  all. 

This,  then,  will  be  the  first  great  defect  of  oligarchy  ? 

Clearly. 

And  here  is  another  defect  which  is  quite  as  bad. 

What  defect  ? 

The  inevitable  division:  such  a State  is  not  one^  but  two 
States,  the  one  of  poor,  the  other  of  rich  men;  and  they  are 
living  on  the  same  spot  and  always  conspiring  against  one 
another. 

That,  surely,  is  at  least  as  bad. 

Another  discreditable  feature  is,  that,  for  a like  reason,  they 
are  incapable  of  carrying  on  any  war.  Either  they  arm  the 
multitude,  and  then  they  are  more  afraid  of  them  than  of  the 

* Compare  supra,  544  C.  * Omitting  ^ Tti/05. 


250 


PLATO 


enemy;  or,  if  they  do  not  call  them  out  in  the  hour  of  battle, 
they  are  oligarchs  indeed,  few  to  fight  as  they  are  few  to  rule. 
And  at  the  same  time  their  fondness  for  money  makes  them 
unwilling  to  pay  taxes. 

How  discreditable ! 

And,  as  we  said  before,  under  such  a constitution  the  same 
persons  have  too  many  callings — they  are  husbandmen,  trades- 
men, warriors,  all  in  one.  Does  that  look  well  ? 

Anything  but  well. 

There  is  another  evil  which  is,  perhaps^  the  greatest  of  all, 
and  to  which  this  State  first  begins  to  be  liable. 

What  evil  ? 

A man  may  sell  all  that  he  has,  and  another  may  acquire  his 
property ; yet  after  the  sale  he  may  dwell  in  the  city  of  which  he 
is  no  longer  a part,  being  neither  trader,  nor  artisan,  nor  horse- 
man, nor  hoplite,  but  only  a poor,  helpless  creature. 

^Yes,  that  is  an  evil  which  also  first  begins  in  this  State. \ 

The  evil  is  certainly  not  prevented  there ; for  oligarchies  have 
both  the  extremes  of  great  wealth  and  utter  poverty. 

True. 

But  think  again : In  his  wealthy  days,  while  he  was  spending 
his  money,  was  a man  of  this  sort  a whit  more  good  to  the  State 
for  the  purposes  of  citizenship?  Or  did  he  only  seem  to  be  a 
member  of  the  ruling  body,  although  in  truth  he  was  neither 
ruler  nor  subject,  but  just  a spendthrift? 

As  you  say,  he  seemed  to  be  a ruler,  but  was  only  a spend- 
thrift. 

May  we  not  say  that  this  is  the  drone  in  the  house  who  is 
like  the  drone  in  the  honeycomb,  and  that  the  one  is  the  plague 
of  the  city  as  the  other  is  of  the  hive  ? 

Just  so,  Socrates. 

And  God  has  made  the  flying  drones,  Adeimantus,  all  with- 
out stings,  whereas  of  the  walking  drones  he  has  made  some 
without  stings,  but  others  have  dreadful  stings ; of  the  stingless 
class  are  those  who  in  their  old  age  end  as  paupers;  of  the 
stingers  come  all  the  criminal  class,  as  they  are  termed. 

Most  true,  he  said. 

Clearly  then,  whenever  you  see  paupers  in  a State,  some- 
where in  that  neighborhood  there  are  hidden  away  thieves  and 
cut-purses  and  robbers  of  temples,  and  all  sorts  of  malefactors. 


THE  REPUBLIC 


251 


Clearly. 

Well,  I said,  and  in  oligarchical  States  do  you  not  find 
paupers  ? 

Yes,  he  said;  nearly  everybody  is  a pauper  who  is  not  a 
ruler. 

And  may  we  be  so  bold  as  to  affirm  that  there  are  also  many 
criminals  to  be  found  in  them,  rogues  who  have  stings,  and 
whom  the  authorities  are  careful  to  restrain  by  force  ? 

Certainly,  we  may  be  so  bold. 

/ The  existence  of  such  persons  is  to  be  attributed  to  want  of 
^ucation,  ill-training,  and  an  evil  constitution  of  the  State  ?3 

True. 

Such,  then,  is  the  form  and  such  are  the  evils  of  oligarchy ; 
and  there  may  be  many  other  evils. 

Very  likely. 

Then  oligarchy,  or  the  form  of  government  in  which  the 
rulers  are  elected  for  their  wealth,  may  now  be  dismissed.  Let 
us  next  proceed  to  consider  the  nature  and  origin  of  the  indi- 
vidual who  answers  to  this  State. 

By  all  means. 

Does  not  the  timocratical  man  change  into  the  oligarchical  on 
this  wise? 

How? 

A time  arrives  when  the  representative  of  timocracy  has  a 
son : at  first  he  begins  by  emulating  his  father  and  walking  in 
his  footsteps,  but  presently  he  sees  him  of  a sudden  foundering 
against  the  State  as  upon  a sunken  reef,  and  he  and  all  that  he 
has  are  lost;  he  may  have  been  a general  or  some  other  high 
officer  who  is  brought  to  trial  under  a prejudice  raised  by  in- 
formers, and  either  put  to  death  or  exiled  or  deprived  of  the 
privileges  of  a citizen,  and  all  his  property  taken  from  him. 

Nothing  more  likely. 

And  the  son  has  seen  and  known  all  this — he  is  a ruined  man, 
and  his  fear  has  taught  him  to  knock  ambition  and  passion  head- 
foremost from  his  bosom’s  throne ; humbled  by  poverty  he  takes 
to  money-making,  and  by  mean  and  miserly  savings  and  hard 
work  gets  a fortune  together.  Is  not  such  a one  likely  to  seat 
the  concupiscent  and  covetous  element  on  the  vacant  throne  and 
to  suffer  it  to  play  the  great  king  within  him,  girt  with  tiara  and 
chain  and  scimitar? 


252 


PLATO 


Most  true,  he  replied. 

And  when  he  has  made  reason  and  spirit  sit  down  on  the 
ground  obediently  on  either  side  of  their  sovereign,  and  taught 
them  to  know  their  place,  he  compels  the  one  to  think  only  of 
how  lesser  sums  may  be  turned  into  larger  ones,  and  will  not 
allow  the  other  to  worship  and  admire  anything  but  riches  and 
rich  men,  or  to  be  ambitious  of  anything  so  much  as  the  acquisi- 
tion of  wealth  and  the  means  of  acquiring  it. 

Of  all  changes,  he  said,  there  is  none  so  speedy  or  so  sure  as 
the  conversion  of  the  ambitious  youth  into  the  avaricious  one. 

And  the  avaricious,  I said,  is  the  oligarchical  youth  ? 

Yes,  he  said ; at  any  rate  the  individual  out  of  whom  he  came 
is  like  the  State  out  of  which  oligarchy  came.« 

Let  us  then  consider  whether  there  is  any  likeness  between 
them. 

Very  good. 

First,  then,  they  resemble  one  another  in  the  value  which  they 
set  upon  wealth  ? 

Certainly. 

Also  in  their  penurious,  laborious  character;  the  individual 
only  satisfies  his  necessary  appetites,  and  confines  his  expendi- 
ture to  them ; his  other  desires  he  subdues,  under  the  idea  that 
they  are  unprofitable. 

True. 

He  is  a shabby  fellow,  who  saves  something  out  of  everything 
and  makes  a purse  for  himself ; and  this  is  the  sort  of  man 
whom  the  vulgar  applaud.  Is  he  not  a true  image  of  the  State 
which  he  represents  ? 

He  appears  to  me  to  be  so;  at  any  rate  money  is  highly 
valued  by  him  as  well  as  by  the  State. 

You  see  that  he  is  not  a man  of  cultivation,  I said. 

I imagine  not,  he  said ; had  he  been  educated  he  would  never 
have  made  a blind  god  director  of  his  chorus,  or  given  him  chief 
honor.^ 

Excellent ! I said.  Yet  consider : Must  we  not  further  admit 
that  owing  to  this  want  of  cultivation  there  will  be  found  in  him 
drone-like  desires  as  of  pauper  and  rogue,  which  are  forcibly 
kept  down  by  his  general  habit  of  life? 

True. 

^ Reading  ical  m/ma  fiaAiara.  E^;,  V according  to  Schneider’s  excellent  emendation* 


THE  REPUBLIC  253 

Do  you  know  where  you  will  have  to  look  if  you  want  to 
discover  his  rogueries  ? 

Where  must  I look  ? 

You  should  see  him  where  he  has  some  great  opportunity  of 
acting  dishonestly,  as  in  the  guardianship  of  an  orphan. 

Aye. 

It  will  be  clear  enough  then  that  in  his  ordinary  dealings 
which  give  him  a reputation  for  honesty,  he  coerces  his  bad 
passions  by  an  enforced  virtue ; not  making  them  see  that  they 
are  wrong,  or  taming  them  by  reason,  but  by  necessity  and 
fear  constraining  them,  and  because  he  trembles  for  his  pos- 
sessions. 

To  be  sure. 

Yes,  indeed,  my  dear  friend,  but  you  will  find  that  the  natu- 
ral desires  of  the  drone  commonly  exist  in  him  all  the  same 
whenever  he  has  to  spend  what  is  not  his  own. 

Yes,  and  they  will  be  strong  in  him,  too. 

The  man,  then,  will  be  at  war  with  himself ; he  will  be  two 
men,  and  not  one;  but,  in  general,  his  better  desires  will  be 
found  to  prevail  over  his  inferior  ones. 

True. 

For  these  reasons  such  a one  will  be  more  respectable  than 
most  people ; yet  the  true  virtue  of  a unanimous  and  harmonious 
soul  will  flee  far  away  and  never  come  near  him. 

I should  expect  so. 

And  surely  the  miser  individually  will  be  an  ignoble  com- 
petitor in  a State  for  any  prize  of  victory,  or  other  object  of 
honorable  ambition ; he  will  not  spend  his  money  in  the  contest 
for  glory ; so  afraid  is  he  of  awakening  his  expensive  appetites 
and  inviting  them  to  help  and  join  in  the  struggle;  in  true  oli- 
garchical fashion  he  fights  with  a small  part  only  of  his  re- 
sources, and  the  result  commonly  is  that  he  loses  the  prize  and 
saves  his  money. 

Very  true. 

Can  we  any  longer  doubt,  then,  that  the  miser  and  money- 
maker answers  to  the  oligarchical  State  ? 

There  can  be  no  doubt. 

Next  comes  democracy;  of  this  the  origin  and  nature  have 
still  to  be  considered  by  us ; and  then  we  will  inquire  into  the 
ways  of  the  democratic  man,  and  bring  him  up  for  judgment. 


254 


PLATO 


That,  he  said,  is  our  method. 

Well,  I said,  and  how  does  the  change  from  oligarchy  into 
democracy  arise?  Is  it  not  on  this  wise:  the  good  at  which 
such  a State  aims  is  to  become  as  rich  as  possible,  a desire  which 
is  insatiable  ? 

What  then? 

The  rulers  being  aware  that  their  power  rests  upon  their 
wealth,  refuse  to  curtail  by  law  the  extravagance  of  the  spend- 
thrift youth  because  they  gain  by  their  ruin ; they  take  interest 
from  them  and  buy  up  their  estates  and  thus  increase  their  own 
wealth  and  importance  ? 

To  be  sure. 

There  can  be  no  doubt  that  the  love  of  wealth  and  the  spirit 
of  moderation  cannot  exist  together  in  citizens  of  the  same 
State  to  any  considerable  extent ; one  or  the  other  will  be  disre- 
garded. 

That  is  tolerably  clear. 

And  in  oligarchical  States,  from  the  general  spread  . ^ care- 
lessness and  extravagance,  men  of  good  family  have  often  been 
reduced  to  beggary  ? 

Yes,  often. 

And  still  they  remain  in  the  city;  there  they  are,  ready  to 
sting  and  fully  armed,  and  some  of  them  owe  money,  some  have 
forfeited  their  citizenship;  a third  class  are  in  both  predica- 
ments ; and  they  hate  and  conspire  against  those  who  have  got 
their  property,  and  against  everybody  else,  and  are  eager  for 
revolution. 

That  is  true. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  men  of  business,  stooping  as  they 
walk,  and  pretending  not  even  to  see  those  whom  they  have 
already  ruined,  insert  their  sting — that  is,  their  money — ^into 
someone  else  who  is  not  on  his  guard  against  them,  and  recover 
the  parent  sum  many  times  over  multiplied  into  a family  of  chil- 
dren: and  so  they  make  drone  and  pauper  to  abound  in  the 
State. 

Yes,  he  said,  there  are  plenty  of  them — that  is  certain. 

The  evil  blazes  up  like  a fire ; and  they  will  not  extinguish  it 
either  by  restricting  a man's  use  of  his  own  property,  or  by 
another  remedy. 

What  other? 


THE  REPUBLIC 


255 


One  which  is  the  next  best,  and  has  the  advantage  of  com- 
pelling the  citizens  to  look  to  their  characters:  Let  there  be  a 
general  rule  that  everyone  shall  enter  into  voluntary  contracts 
at  his  own  risk,  and  there  will  be  less  of  this  scandalous  money- 
making, and  the  evils  of  which  we  were  speaking  will  be  greatly 
lessened  in  the  State. 

Yes,  they  will  be  greatly  lessened. 

At  present  the  governors,  induced  by  the  motives  which  I 
have  named,  treat  their  subjects  badly;  while  they  and  their 
adherents,  especially  the  young  men  of  the  governing  class,  are 
habituated  to  lead  a life  of  luxury  and  idleness  both  of  body  and 
mind;  they  do  nothing,  and  are  incapable  of  resisting  either 
pleasure  or  pain. 

Very  true. 

They  themselves  care  only  for  making  money,  and  are  as 
indifferent  as  the  pauper  to  the  cultivation  of  virtue. 

Yes,  quite  as  indifferent. 

Such  is  the  state  of  affairs  which  prevails  among  them.  And 
often  rulers  and  their  subjects  may  come  in  one  another’s  way, 
whether  on  a journey  or  on  some  other  occasion  of  meeting, 
on  a pilgrimage  or  a march,  as  fellow-soldiers  or  fellow- 
sailors  ; aye,  and  they  may  observe  the  behavior  of  each  other 
in  the  very  moment  of  danger — for  where  danger  is,  there  is 
no  fear  that  the  poor  will  be  despised  by  the  rich — and  very 
likely  the  wiry,  sunburnt  poor  man  may  be  placed  in  battle 
at  the  side  of  a wealthy  one  who  has  never  spoilt  his  com- 
plexion and  has  plenty  of  superfluous  flesh — when  he  sees  such 
a one  puffing  and  at  his  wits’-end,  how  can  he  avoid  drawing 
the  conclusion  that  men  like  him  are  only  rich  because  no  one 
has  the  courage  to  despoil  them?  And  when  they  meet  in 
private  will  not  people  be  saying  to  one  another,  Our  war- 
riors are  not  good  for  much  ” ? 

Yes,  he  said,  I am  quite  aware  that  this  is  their  way  of 
talking. 

And,  as  in  a body  which  is  diseased  the  addition  of  a touch 
from  without  may  bring  on  illness,  and  sometimes  even  when 
there  is  no  external  provocation,  a commotion  may  arise  with- 
in— in  the  same  way  wherever  there  is  weakness  in  the  State 
there  is  also  likely  to  be  illness,  of  which  the  occasion  may 
be  very  slight,  the  one  party  introducing  from  without  their 


PLATO 


356 

oligarchical,  the  other  their  democratical  allies,  and  then  the 
State  falls  sick,  and  is  at  war  with  herself;  and  may  be  at 
times  distracted,  even  when  there  is  no  external  cause. 

Yes,  surely. 

And  then  democracy  comes  into  being  after  the  poor  have 
conquered  their  opponents,  slaughtering  some  and  banishing 
some,  while  to  the  remainder  they  give  an  equal  share  of  free- 
dom and  power ; and  this  is  the  form  of  government  in  which 
the  magistrates  are  commonly  elected  by  lot. 

Yes,  he  said,  that  is  the  nature  of  democracy,  whether  the 
revolution  has  been  effected  by  arms,  or  whether  fear  has 
caused  the  opposite  party  to  withdraw. 

And  now  what  is  their  manner  of  life,  and  what  sort  of  a 
government  have  they?  for  as  the  government  is,  such  will 
be  the  man. 

Clearly,  he  said. 

In  the  first  place,  dre  they  not  free ; and  is  not  the  city  full 
of  freedom  and  frankness — a man  may  say  and  do  what  he 
likes  ? 

'Tis  said  so,  he  replied. 

And  where  freedom  is,  the  individual  is  clearly  able  to 
order  for  himself  his  own  life  as  he  pleases? 

Clearly. 

Then  in  this  kind  of  State  there  will  be  the  greatest  variety 
of  human  natures? 

There  will. 

This,  then,  seems  likely  to  be  the  fairest  of  States,  being 
like  an  embroidered  robe  which  is  spangled  with  every  sort 
of  flower.^  And  just  as  women  and  children  think  a variety 
of  colors  to  be  of  all  things  most  charming,  so  there  are  many 
men  to  whom  this  State,  which  is  spangled  with  the  manners 
and  characters  of  mankind,  will  appear  to  be  the  fairest  of 
States. 

Yes. 

Yes,  my  good  sir,  and  there  will  be  no  better  in  which  to 
look  for  a government. 

Why? 

Because  of  the  liberty  which  reigns  there — they  have  a com- 
plete assortment  of  constitutions;  and  he  who  has  a mind  to 

> Omitting  n fiijy  i e^ij. 


THE  REPUBLIC 


257 


establish  a State,  as  we  have  been  doing,  must  go  to  a democ- 
racy as  he  would  to  a bazaar  at  which  they  sell  them,  and 
pick  out  the  one  that  suits  him ; then,  when  he  has  made  his 
choice,  he  may  found  his  State. 

He  will  be  sure  to  have  patterns  enough. 

And  there  being  no  necessity,  I said,  for  you  to  govern  in 
this  State,  even  if  you  have  the  capacity,  or  to  be  governed, 
unless  you  like,  or  to  go  to  war  when  the  rest  go  to  war,  or 
to  be  at  peace  when  others  are  at  peace,  unless  you  are  so 
disposed — there  being  no  necessity  also,  because  some  law  for- 
bids you  to  hold  office  or  be  a dicast,  that  you  should  not  hold 
office  or  be  a dicast,  if  you  have  a fancy — is  not  this  a way 
of  life  which  for  the  moment  is  supremely  delightful? 

For  the  moment,  yes. 

And  is  not  their  humanity  to  the  condemned^  in  some  cases 
quite  charming  ? Have  you  not  observed  how,  in  a democracy, 
many  persons,  although  they  have  been  sentenced  to  death  or 
exile,  just  stay  where  they  are  and  walk  about  the  world — 
the  gentleman  parades  like  a hero,  and  nobody  sees  or  cares? 

Yes,  he  replied,  many  and  many  a one. 

See,  too,  I said,  the  forgiving  spirit  of  democracy,  and  the 

don’t  care  ” about  trifles,  and  the  disregard  which  she  shows 
of  all  the  fine  principles  which  we  solemnly  laid  down  at  the 
foundation  of  the  city — as  when  we  said  that,  except  in  the 
case  of  some  rarely  gifted  nature,  there  never  will  be  a good 
man  who  has  not  from  his  childhood  been  used  to  play  amdd 
things  of  beauty  and  make  of  them  a joy  and  a study — how 
grandly  does  she  trample  all  these  fine  notions  of  ours  under 
her  feet,  never  giving  a thought  to  the  pursuits  which  make 
a statesman,  and  promoting  to  honor  anyone  who  professes 
to  be  the  people’s  friend. 

Yes,  she  is  of  a noble  spirit. 

These  and  other  kindred  characteristics  are  proper  to 
democracy,  which  is  a charming  form  of  government,  full  of 
variety  and  disorder,  and  dispensing  a sort  of  equality  to  equals 
and  unequals  alike. 

We  know  her  well. 

Consider  now,  I said,  what  manner  of  man  the  individual 


* Or,  “ the  philosophical  temper  of  the  condemned,’ 


PLATO 


258 

is,  or  rather  consider,  as  in  the  case  of  the  State,  how  he 
comes  into  being. 

Very  good,  he  said. 

Is  not  this  the  way — he  is  the  son  of  the  miserly  and  oli- 
garchical father  who  has  trained  him  in  his  own  habits? 

Exactly. 

And,  like  his  father,  he  keeps  under  by  force  the  pleasures 
which  are  of  the  spending  and  not  of  the  getting  sort,  being 
those  which  are  called  unnecessary? 

Obviously. 

Would  you  like,  for  the  sake  of  clearness,  to  distinguish 
which  are  the  necessary  and  which  are  the  unnecessary  pleas- 
ures? 

I should. 

Are  not  necessary  pleasures  those  of  which  we  cannot  get 
rid,  and  of  which  the  satisfaction  is  a benefit  to  us?  And 
they  are  rightly  called  so,  because  we  are  framed  by  nature 
to  desire  both  what  is  beneficial  and  what  is  necessary,  and 
cannot  help  it. 

True. 

We  are  not  wrong  therefore  in  calling  them  necessary? 

We  are  not. 

And  the  desires  of  which  a man  may  get  rid,  if  he  takes 
pains  from  his  youth  upward — of  which  the  presence,  more- 
over, does  no  good,  and  in  some  cases  the  reverse  of  good — 
shall  we  not  be  right  in  saying  that  all  these  are  unnecessary? 

Yes,  certainly. 

Suppose  we  select  an  example  of  either  kind,  in  order  that 
we  may  have  a general  notion  of  them? 

Very  good. 

Will  not  the  desire  of  eating,  that  is,  of  simple  food  and  con- 
diments, in  so  far  as  they  are  required  for  health  and  strength, 
be  of  the  necessary  class? 

That  is  what  I should  suppose. 

The  pleasure  of  eating  is  necessary  in  two  ways;  it  does 
us  good  and  it  is  essential  to  the  continuance  of  life? 

Yes. 

But  the  condiments  are  only  necessary  in  so  far  as  they 
are  good  for  health  ? 

Certainly. 


THE  REPUBLIC 


259 


And  the  desire  which  goes  beyond  this,  of  more  delicate 
food,  or  other  luxuries,  which  might  generally  be  got  rid  of, 
if  controlled  and  trained  in  youth,  and  is  hurtful  to  the  body, 
and  hurtful  to  the  soul  in  the  pursuit  of  wisdom  and  virtue, 
may  be  rightly  called  unnecessary? 

Very  true. 

May  we  not  say  that  these  desires  spend,  and  that  the 
others  make  money  because  they  conduce  to  production? 

Certainly. 

And  of  the  pleasures  of  love,  and  all  other  pleasures,  the 
same  holds  good? 

True. 

And  the  drone  of  whom  we  spoke  was  he  who  was  sur- 
feited in  pleasures  and  desires  of  this  sort,  and  was  the  slave 
of  the  unnecessary  desires,  whereas  he  who  was  subject  to 
the  necessary  only  was  miserly  and  oligarchical? 

Very  true. 

Again,  let  us  see  how  the  democratical  man  goes  out  of 
the  oligarchical : the  following,  as  I suspect,  is  commonly  the 
process. 

What  is  the  process? 

When  a young  man  who  has  been  brought  up  as  we  were 
just  now  describing,  in  a vulgar  and  miserly  way,  has  tasted 
drones’  honey  and  has  come  to  associate  with  fierce  and  crafty 
natures  who  are  able  to  provide  for  him  all  sorts  of  refine- 
ments and  varieties  of  pleasure — then,  as  you  may  imagine, 
the  change  will  begin  of  the  oligarchical  principle  within  him 
into  the  democratical? 

Inevitably. 

And  as  in  the  city  like  was  helping  like,  and  the  change 
was  effected  by  an  alliance  from  without  assisting  one  division 
of  the  citizens,  so  too  the  young  man  is  changed  by  a class 
of  desires  coming  from  without  to  assist  the  desires  within 
him,  that  which  is  akin  and  alike  again  helping  that  which 
is  akin  and  alike? 

Certainly. 

And  if  there  be  any  ally  which  aids  the  oligarchical  prin- 
ciple within  him,  whether  the  influence  of  a father  or  of  kin- 
dred, advising  or  rebuking  him,  then  there  arise  in  his  soul 
a faction  and  an  opposite  faction,  and  he  goes  to  war  with 
himself. 


26o 


PLATO 


It  must  be  so. 

And  there  are  times  when  the  democratical  principle  gives 
way  to  the  oligarchical,  and  some  of  his  desires  die,  and  others 
are  banished ; a spirit  of  reverence  enters  into  the  young  man’s 
soul,  and  order  is  restored. 

Yes,  he  said,  that  sometimes  happens. 

And  then,  again,  after  the  old  desires  have  been  driven  out, 
fresh  ones  spring  up,  which  are  akin  to  them,  and  because  he 
their  father  does  not  know  how  to  educate  them,  wax  fierce 
and  numerous. 

Yes,  he  said,  that  is  apt  to  be  the  way. 

They  draw  him  to  his  old  associates,  and  holding  secret  in- 
tercourse with  them,  breed  and  multiply  in  him. 

Very  true. 

At  length  they  seize  upon  the  citadel  of  the  young  man’s 
soul,  which  they  perceive  to  be  void  of  all  accomplishments 
and  fair  pursuits  and  true  words,  which  make  their  abode  in 
the  minds  of  men  who  are  dear  to  the  gods,  and  are  their  best 
guardians  and  sentinels. 

None  better. 

False  and  boastful  conceits  and  phrases  mount  upward  and 
take  their  place. 

They  are  certain  to  do  so. 

And  so  the  young  man  returns  into  the  country  of  the  lotus- 
eaters,  and  takes  up  his  dwelling  there,  in  the  face  of  all  men ; 
and  if  any  help  be  sent  by  his  friends  to  the  oligarchical  part 
of  him,  the  aforesaid  vain  conceits  shut  the  gate  of  the  King’s 
fastness;  and  they  will  neither  allow  the  embassy  itself  to 
enter,  nor  if  private  advisers  offer  the  fatherly  counsel  of  the 
aged  will  they  listen  to  them  or  receive  them.  There  is  a bat- 
tle and  they  gain  the  day,  and  then  modesty,  which  they  call 
silliness,  is  ignominiously  thrust  into  exile  by  them,  and 
temperance,  which  they  nick-name  unmanliness,  is  trampled  in 
the  mire  and  cast  forth;  they  persuade  men  that  moderation 
and  orderly  expenditure  are  vulgarity  and  meanness,  and  so, 
by  the  help  of  a rabble  of  evil  appetites,  they  drive  them  be- 
yond the  border. 

Yes,  with  a will. 

And  when  they  have  emptied  and  swept  clean  the  soul  of 
him  who  is  now  in  their  power  and  who  is  being  initiated  by 


THE  REPUBLIC 


261 


them  in  great  mysteries,  the  next  thing  is  to  bring  back  to  their 
house  insolence  and  anarchy  and  waste  and  impudence  in 
bright  array,  having  garlands  on  their  heads,  and  a great  com- 
pany with  them,  hymning  their  praises  and  calling  them  by 
sweet  names ; insolence  they  term  breeding,’’  and  anarchy 
liberty,”  and  waste  magnificence,”  and  impudence  ‘‘  cour- 
age.” And  so  the  young  man  passes  out  of  his  original  nature, 
which  was  trained  in  the  school  of  necessity,  into  the  freedom 
and  libertinism  of  useless  and  unnecessary  pleasures. 

Yes,  he  said,  the  change  in  him  is  visible  enough. 

After  this  he  lives  on,  spending  his  money  and  labor  and 
time  on  unnecessary  pleasures  quite  as  much  as  on  necessary 
ones;  but  if  he  be  fortunate,  and  is  not  too  much  disordered 
in  his  wits,  when  years  have  elapsed,  and  the  heyday  of  pas- 
sion is  over — supposing  that  he  then  readmits  into  the  city 
some  part  of  the  exiled  virtues,  and  does  not  wholly  give  him- 
self up  to  their  successors — in  that  case  he  balances  his  pleas- 
ures and  lives  in  a sort  of  equilibrium,  putting  the  govern- 
ment of  himself  into  the  hands  of  the  one  which  comes  first 
and  wins  the  turn ; and  when  he  has  had  enough  of  that,  then 
into  the  hands  of  another;  he  despises  none  of  them,  but 
encourages  them  all  equally. 

Very  true^  he  said. 

Neither  does  he  receive  or  let  pass  into  the  fortress  any  true 
word  of  advice;  if  anyone  says  to  him  that  some  pleasures 
are  the  satisfactions  of  good  and  noble  desires,  and  others  of 
evil  desires,  and  that  he  ought  to  use  and  honor  some,  and 
chastise  and  master  the  others — whenever  this  is  repeated  to 
him  he  shakes  his  head  and  says  that  they  are  all  alike,  and 
that  one  is  as  good  as  another. 

Yes,  he  said;  that  is  the  way  with  him. 

Yes,  I said,  he  lives  from  day  to  day  indulging  the  appetite 
of  the  hour ; and  sometimes  he  is  lapped  in  drink  and  strains 
of  the  flute;  then  he  becomes  a water-drinker,  and  tries  to 
get  thin ; then  he  takes  a turn  at  gymnastics ; sometimes 
idling  and  neglecting  everything,  then  once  more  living  the 
life  of  a philosopher ; often  he  is  busy  with  politics,  and  starts 
to  his  feet  and  says  and  does  whatever  comes  into  his  head ; 
and,  if  he  is  emulous  of  anyone  who  is  a warrior,  otf  he  is 
in  that  direction,  or  of  men  of  business,  once  more  in  that. 


262 


PLATO 


His  life  has  neither  law  nor  order;  and  this  distracted  exist- 
ence he  terms  joy  and  bliss  and  freedom ; and  so  he  goes  on. 

Yes,  he  replied,  he  is  all  liberty  and  equality. 

Yes,  I said;  his  life  is  motley  and  manifold  and  an  epitome 
of  the  lives  of  many;  he  answers  to  the  State  which  we  de- 
scribed as  fair  and  spangled.  And  many  a man  and  many 
a woman  will  take  him  for  their  pattern,  and  many  a con- 
stitution and  many  an  example  of  manners  are  contained  in  him. 

Just  so. 

Let  him  then  be  set  over  against  democracy;  he  may  truly 
be  called  the  democratic  man. 

Let  that  be  his  place,  he  said. 

Last  of  all  comes  the  most  beautiful  of  all,  man  and  State 
alike,  tyranny  and  the  tyrant;  these  we  have  now  to  consider. 

Quite  true^  he  said. 

Say  then,  my  friend,  in  what  manner  does  tyranny  arise? 
— that  it  has  a democratic  origin  is  evident. 

Clearly. 

And  does  not  tyranny  spring  from  democracy  in  the  same 
manner  as  democracy  from  oligarchy — I mean,  after  a sort? 

How? 

The  good  which  oligarchy  proposed  to  itself  and  the  means 
by  which  it  was  maintained  was  excess  of  wealth — am  I not 
right  ? 

Yes. 

And  the  insatiable  desire  of  wealth  and  the  neglect  of  all 
other  things  for  the  sake  of  money-getting  were  also  the  ruin 
of  oligarchy? 

True. 

And  democracy  has  her  own  good,  of  which  the  insatiable 
desire  brings  her  to  dissolution? 

What  good  ? 

Freedom,  I replied;  which,  as  they  tell  you  in  a democracy, 
is  the  glory  of  the  State — and  that  therefore  in  a democracy 
alone  will  the  freeman  of  nature  deign  to  dwell. 

Yes;  the  saying  is  in  everybody's  mouth. 

I was  going  to  observe,  that  the  insatiable  desire  of  this 
and  the  neglect  of  other  things  introduce  the  change  in  democ- 
racy, which  occasions  a demand  for  tyranny. 

How  so? 


THE  REPUBLIC 


263 


When  a democracy  which  is  thirsting  for  freedom  has  evil 
cup-bearers  presiding  over  the  feast,  and  has  drunk  too  deeply 
of  the  strong  wine  of  freedom,  then,  unless  her  rulers  are  very 
amenable  and  give  a plentiful  draught,  she  calls  them  to  ac- 
count and  punishes  them,  and  says  that  they  are  cursed  oli- 
garchs. 

Yes,  he  replied,  a very  common  occurrence. 

Yes,  I said;  and  loyal  citizens  are  insultingly  termed  by 
her  “ slaves  who  hug  their  chains,  and  men  of  naught ; she 
would  have  subjects  who  are  like  rulers,  and  rulers  who  are 
like  subjects:  these  are  men  after  her  own  heart,  whom  she 
praises  and  honors  both  in  private  and  public.  Now,  in  such 
a State,  can  liberty  have  any  limit? 

Certainly  not. 

By  degrees  the  anarchy  finds  a way  into  private  houses,  and 
ends  by  getting  among  the  animals  and  infecting  them. 

How  do  you  mean? 

I mean  that  the  father  grows  accustomed  to  descend  to 
the  level  of  his  sons  and  to  fear  them,  and  the  son  is  on  a level 
with  his  father,  he  having  no  respect  or  reverence  for  either 
of  his  parents ; and  this  is  his  freedom ; and  the  metic  is  equal 
with  the  citizen,  and  the  citizen  with  the  metic,  and  the 
stranger  is  quite  as  good  as  either. 

Yes,  he  said,  that  is  the  way. 

And  these  are  not  the  only  evils,  I said — there  are  several 
lesser  ones:  In  such  a state  of  society  the  master  fears  and 
flatters  his  scholars,  and  the  scholars  despise  their  masters 
and  tutors ; young  and  old  are  all  alike ; and  the  young  man 
is  on  a level  with  the  old,  and  is  ready  to  compete  with  him 
in  word  or  deed;  and  old  men  condescend  to  the  young  and 
are  full  of  pleasantry  and  gayety ; they  are  loth  to  be  thought 
morose  and  authoritative,  and  therefore  they  adopt  the  man- 
nei>  of  the  young. 

Quite  true,  he  said. 

The  last  extreme  of  popular  liberty  is  when  the  slave  bought 
with  money,  whether  male  or  female,  is  just  as  free  as  his 
or  her  purchaser ; nor  must  I forget  to  tell  of  the  liberty  and 
equality  of  the  two  sexes  in  relation  to  each  other. 

Why  not,  as  -^schylus  says,  utter  the  word  which  rises  to 
our  lips? 


264 


PLATO 


That  is  what  I am  doing,  I replied;  and  I must  add  that 
no  one  who  does  not  know  would  believe  how  much  greater 
is  the  liberty  which  the  animals  who  are  under  the  dominion 
of  man  have  in  a democracy  than  in  any  other  State:  for, 
truly,  the  she-dogs,  as  the  proverb  says,  are  as  good  as  their 
she-mistresses,  and  the  horses  and  asses  have  a way  of  march- 
ing along  with  all  the  rights  and  dignities  of  freemen;  and 
they  will  run  at  anybody  who  comes  in  their  way  if  he  does 
not  leave  the  road  clear  for  them:  and  all  things  are  just 
ready  to  burst  with  liberty. 

When  I take  a country  walk,  he  said,  I often  experience 
what  you  describe.  You  and  I have  dreamed  the  same  thing. 

And  above  all,  I said,  and  as  the  result  of  all,  see  how  sen- 
sitive the  citizens  become;  they  chafe  impatiently  at  the  least 
touch  of  authority,  and  at  length,  as  you  know,  they  cease 
to  care  even  for  the  laws,  written  or  unwritten;  they  will 
have  no  one  over  them. 

Yes,  he  said,  I know  it  too  well. 

Such,  my  friend,  I said,  is  the  fair  and  glorious  beginning 
out  of  which  springs  tyranny. 

Glorious  indeed,  he  said.  But  what  is  the  next  step? 

The  ruin  of  oligarchy  is  the  ruin  of  democracy;  the  same 
disease  magnified  and  intensified  by  liberty  overmasters  democ- 
racy— the  truth  being  that  the  excessive  increase  of  anything 
often  causes  a reaction  in  the  opposite  direction;  and  this  is 
the  case  not  only  in  the  seasons  and  in  vegetable  and  animal 
life,  but  above  all  in  forms  of  government. 

True. 

The  excess  of  liberty,  whether  in  States  or  individuals, 
seems  only  to  pass  into  excess  of  slavery. 

Yes,  the  natural  order. 

And  so  tyranny  naturally  arises  out  of  democracy,  and  the 
most  aggravated  form  of  tyranny  and  slavery  out  of  the  most 
extreme  form  of  liberty? 

As  we  might  expect. 

That,  however,  was  not,  as  I believe,  your  question — you 
rather  desired  to  know  what  is  that  disorder  which  is  gen- 
erated alike  in  oligarchy  and  democracy,  and  is  the  ruin  of 
both? 

Just  so,  he  replied. 


THE  REPUBLIC 


265 


Well,  I said,  I meant  to  refer  to  the  class  of  idle  spend- 
thrifts, of  whom  the  more  courageous  are  the  leaders  and  the 
more  timid  the  followers,  the  same  whom  we  were  compar- 
ing to  drones,  some  stingless,  and  others  having  stings. 

A very  just  comparison. 

These  two  classes  are  the  plagues  of  every  city  in  which 
they  are  generated,  being  what  phlegm  and  bile  are  to  the 
body.  And  the  good  physician  and  lawgiver  of  the  State 
ought,  like  the  wise  bee-master,  to  keep  them  at  a distance  and 
prevent,  if  possible,  their  ever  coming  in;  and  if  they  have 
anyhow  found  a way  in,  then  he  should  have  them  and  their 
cells  cut  out  as  speedily  as  possible. 

Yes,  by  all  means,  he  said. 

Then,  in  order  that  we  may  see  clearly  what  we  are  doing, 
let  us  imagine  democracy  to  be  divided,  as  indeed  it  is,  into 
three  classes ; for  in  the  first  place  freedom  creates  rather  more 
drones  in  the  democratic  than  there  were  in  the  oligarchical 
State. 

That  is  true. 

And  in  the  democracy  they  are  certainly  more  intensified. 

How  so  ? 

Because  in  the  oligarchical  State  they  are  disqualified  and 
driven  from  office,  and  therefore  they  cannot  train  or  gather 
strength;  whereas  in  a democracy  they  are  almost  the  en- 
tire ruling  power,  and  while  the  keener  sort  speak  and  act, 
the  rest  keep  buzzing  about  the  bema  and  do  not  suffer  a word 
to  be  said  on  the  other  side;  hence  in  democracies  almost 
everything  is  managed  by  the  drones. 

Very  true,  he  said. 

Then  there  is  another  class  which  is  always  being  severed 
from  the  mass. 

What  is  that? 

They  are  the  orderly  class,  which  in  a nation  of  traders  is 
sure  to  be  the  richest. 

Naturally  so. 

They  are  the  most  squeezable  persons  and  yield  the  largest 
amount  of  honey  to  the  drones. 

Why,  he  said,  there  is  little  to  be  squeezed  out  of  people 
who  have  little. 

And  this  is  called  the  wealthy  class,  and  the  drones  feed 
upon  them. 


266 


PLATO 


That  is  pretty  much  the  case,  he  said. 

The  people  are  a third  class,  consisting  of  those  who  work 
with  their  own  hands;  they  are  not  politicians,  and  have  not 
much  to  live  upon.  This,  when  assembled,  is  the  largest  and 
most  powerful  class  in  a democracy. 

True,  he  said;  but  then  the  multitude  is  seldom  willing  to 
congregate  unless  they  get  a little  honey. 

And  do  they  not  share?  I said.  Do  not  their  leaders  de- 
prive the  rich  of  their  estates  and  distribute  them  among  the 
people;  at  the  same  time  taking  care  to  reserve  the  larger 
part  for  themselves? 

Why,  yes,  he  said,  to  that  extent  the  people  do  share. 

And  the  persons  whose  property  is  taken  from  them  are 
compelled  to  defend  themselves  before  the  people  as  they  best 
can? 

What  else  can  they  do? 

And  then,  although  they  may  have  no  desire  of  change,  the 
others  charge  them  with  plotting  against  the  people  and  being 
friends  of  oligarchy? 

True. 

And  the  end  is  that  when  they  see  the  people,  not  of  their 
own  accord,  but  through  ignorance,  and  because  they  are  de- 
ceived by  informers,  seeking  to  do  them  wrong,  then  at  last 
they  are  forced  to  become  oligarchs  in  reality;  they  do  not 
wish  to  be,  but  the  sting  of  the  drones  torments  them  and 
breeds  revolution  in  them. 

That  is  exactly  the  truth. 

Then  come  impeachments  and  judgments  and  trials  of  one 
another. 

True. 

The  people  have  always  some  champion  whom  they  set  over 
them  and  nurse  into  greatness. 

Yes,  that  is  their  way. 

This,  and  no  other,  is  the  root  from  which  a tyrant  springs ; 
when  he  first  appears  above  ground  he  is  a protector. 

Yes,  that  is  quite  clear. 

How,  then,  does  a protector  begin  to  change  into  a tyrant? 
Clearly  when  he  does  what  the  man  is  said  to  do  in  the  tale 
of  the  Arcadian  temple  of  Lycsean  Zeus. 

What  tale? 


THE  REPUBLIC 


267 


The  tale  is  that  he  who  has  tasted  the  entrails  of  a single 
human  victim  minced  up  with  the  entrails  of  other  victims  is 
destined  to  become  a wolf.  Did  you  never  hear  it? 

Oh,  yes. 

And  the  protector  of  the  people  is  like  him;  having  a mob 
entirely  at  his  disposal,  he  is  not  restrained  from  shedding  the 
blood  of  kinsmen;  by  the  favorite  method  of  false  accusa- 
tion he  brings  them  into  court  and  murders  them,  making  the 
life  of  man  to  disappear,  and  with  unholy  tongue  and  lips 
tasting  the  blood  of  his  fellow-citizens;  some  he  kills  and 
others  he  banishes,  at  the  same  time  hinting  at  the  abolition 
of  debts  and  partition  of  lands:  and  after  this,  what  will  be 
his  destiny?  Must  he  not  either  perish  at  the  hands  of  his 
enemies,  or  from  being  a man  become  a wolf — ^that  is,  a tyrant? 

Inevitably. 

This,  I said,  is  he  who  begins  to  make  a party  against  the 
rich? 

The  same. 

After  a while  he  is  driven  out,  but  comes  back,  in  spite  of 
his  enemies,  a tyrant  full  grown. 

That  is  clear. 

And  if  they  are  unable  to  expel  him,  or  to  get  him  con- 
demned to  death  by  a public  accusation,  they  conspire  to  assas- 
sinate him. 

Yes,  he  said,  that  is  their  usual  way. 

Then  comes  the  famous  request  for  a body-guard,  which 
is  the  device  of  all  those  who  have  got  thus  far  in  their  tyran- 
nical career — Let  not  the  people’s  friend,”  as  they  say,  “ be 
lost  to  them.” 

Exactly. 

The  people  readily  assent ; all  their  fears  are  for  him — ^they 
have  none  for  themselves. 

Very  true. 

And  when  a man  who  is  wealthy  and  is  also  accused  of 
being  an  enemy  of  the  people  sees  this,  then,  my  friend,  as 
the  oracle  said  to  Croesus, 

“ By  pebbly  Hermus’s  shore  he  flees  and  rests  not,  and  is  not 
ashamed  to  be  a coward.*^  ^ 


* Herodotus,  i.  55. 


268 


PLATO 


And  quite  right  too,  said  he,  for  if  he  were,  he  would  never 
be  ashamed  again. 

But  if  he  is  caught  he  dies. 

Of  course. 

And  he,  the  protector  of  whom  we  spoke,  is  to  be  seen,  not 
larding  the  plain  with  his  bulk,  but  himself  the  overthrower 
of  many,  standing  up  in  the  chariot  of  State  with  the  reins  in 
his  hand,  no  longer  protector,  but  tyrant  absolute. 

No  doubt,  he  said. 

And  now  let  us  consider  the  happiness  of  the  man,  and 
also  of  the  State  in  which  a creature  like  him  is  generated. 

Yes,  he  said,  let  us  consider  that. 

At  first,  in  the  early  days  of  his  power,  he  is  full  of  smiles, 
and  he  salutes  everyone  whom  he  meets;  he  to  be  called  a 
tyrant,  who  is  making  promises  in  public  and  also  in  private ! 
liberating  debtors,  and  distributing  land  to  the  people  and  his 
followers,  and  wanting  to  be  so  kind  and  good  to  everyone! 

Of  course,  he  said. 

But  when  he  has  disposed  of  foreign  enemies  by  conquest 
or  treaty,  and  there  is  nothing  to  fear  from  them,  then  he 
is  always  stirring  up  some  war  or  other,  in  order  that  the 
people  may  require  a leader. 

To  be  sure. 

Has  he  not  also  another  object,  which  is  that  they  may  be 
impoverished  by  payment  of  taxes,  and  thus  compelled  to  de- 
vote themselves  to  their  daily  wants  and  therefore  less  likely 
to  conspire  against  him? 

Clearly. 

And  if  any  of  them  are  suspected  by  him  of  having  notions 
of  freedom,  and  of  resistance  to  his  authority,  he  will  have 
a good  pretext  for  destroying  them  by  placing  them  at  the 
mercy  of  the  enemy;  and  for  all  these  reasons  the  tyrant 
must  be  always  getting  up  a war. 

He  must. 

Now  he  begins  to  grow  unpopular. 

A necessary  result. 

Then  some  of  those  who  joined  in  setting  him  up,  and  who 
are  in  power,  speak  their  minds  to  him  and  to  one  another, 
and  the  more  courageous  of  them  cast  in  his  teeth  what  is 
being  done. 


THE  REPUBLIC 


269 


Yes,  that  may  be  expected. 

And  the  tyrant,  if  he  means  to  rule,  must  get  rid  of;them; 
he  cannot  stop  while  he  has  a friend  or  an  enemy  who  is 
good  for  anything. 

He  cannot. 

And  therefore  he  must  look  about  him  and  see  who  is  val- 
iant, who  is  high-minded,  who  is  wise,  who  is  wealthy ; happy 
man,  he  is  the  enemy  of  them  all,  and  must  seek  occasion 
against  them  whether  he  will  or  no,  until  he  has  made  a pur- 
gation of  the  State. 

Yes,  he  said,  and  a rare  purgation. 

Yes,  I said,  not  the  sort  of  purgation  which  the  physicians 
make  of  the  body;  for  they  take  away  the  worse  and  leave 
^he  better  part,  but  he  does  the  reverse. 

If  he  is  to  rule,  I suppose  that  he  cannot  help  himself. 

What  a blessed  alternative,  I said:  to  be  compelled  to 
dwell  only  with  the  many  bad,  and  to  be  by  them  hated,  or 
not  to  live  at  all ! 

Yes,  that  is  the  alternative. 

And  the  more  detestable  his  actions  are  to  the  citizens  the 
more  satellites  and  the  greater  devotion  in  them  will  he  re- 
quire ? 

Certainly. 

And  who  are  the  devoted  band,  and  where  will  he  procure 
them  ? 

They  will  flock  to  him,  he  said,  of  their  own  accord,  if  he 
.pays  them. 

By  the  dog!  I said,  here  are  more  drones,  of  every  sort 
and  from  every  land. 

Yes,  he  said,  there  are. 

But  will  he  not  desire  to  get  them  on  the  spot? 

How  do  you  mean? 

He  will  rob  the  citizens  of  their  slaves;  he  will  then  set 
them  free  and  enrol  them  in  his  body-guard. 

To  be  sure,  he  said ; and  he  will  be  able  to  trust  them  best 
of  all. 

What  a blessed  creature,  I said,  must  this  tyrant  be;  he 
has  put  to  death  the  others  and  has  these  for  his  trusted  friends. 

Yes,  he  said;  they  are  quite  of  his  sort. 

Yes,  I said,  and  these  are  the  new  citizens  whom  he  has 


270 


PLATO 


called  into  existence,  who  admire  him  and  are  his  companions, 
while  the  good  hate  and  avoid  him. 

Of  course. 

Verily,  then,  tragedy  is  a wise  thing  and  Euripides  a great 
tragedian. 

Why  so? 

Why,  because  he  is  the  author  of  the  pregnant  saying, 

Tyrants  are  wise  by  living  with  the  wise;  ” 

and  he  clearly  meant  to  say  that  they  are  the  wise  whom  the 
tyrant  makes  his  companions. 

Yes,  he  said,  and  he  also  praises  tyranny  as  godlike;  and 
many  other  things  of  the  same  kind  are  said  by  him  and  by 
the  other  poets. 

And  therefore,  I said,  the  tragic  poets  being  wise  men  will 
forgive  us  and  any  others  who  live  after  our  manner,  if  we 
do  not  receive  them  into  our  State,  because  they  are  the  eulo- 
gists of  tyranny. 

Yes,  he  said,  those  who  have  the  wit  will  doubtless  forgive 
us. 

But  they  will  continue  to  go  to  other  cities  and  attract  mobs, 
and  hire  voices  fair  and  loud  and  persuasive,  and  draw  the 
cities  over  to  tyrannies  and  democracies. 

Very  true. 

Moreover,  they  are  paid  for  this  and  receive  honor — ^the 
greatest  honor,  as  might  be  expected,  from  tyrants,  and  the 
next  greatest  from  democracies;  but  the  higher  they  ascend 
our  constitution  hill,  the  more  their  reputation  fails,  and  seems 
unable  from  shortness  of  breath  to  proceed  farther. 

True. 

But  we  are  wandering  from  the  subject:  Let  us  therefore 
return  and  inquire  how  the  tyrant  will  maintain  that  fair, 
and  numerous,  and  various,  and  ever-changing  army  of  his. 

If,  he  said,  there  are  sacred  treasures  in  the  city,  he  will 
confiscate  and  spend  them ; and  in  so  far  as  the  fortunes  of 
attainted  persons  may  suffice,  he  will  be  able  to  diminish  the 
taxes  which  he  would  otherwise  have  to  impose  upon  the 
people. 

And  when  these  fail? 

Why,  clearly,  he  said,  then  he  and  his  boon  companions. 


THE  REPUBLIC 


271 


whether  male  or  female,  will  be  maintained  out  of  his  father’s 
erTate. 

You  mean  to  say  that  the  people,  from  whom  he  has  de- 
rived his  being,  will  maintain  him  and  his  companions? 

Yes,  he  said;  they  cannot  help  themselves. 

But  what  if  the  people  fly  into  a passion,  and  aver  that  a 
grown-up  son  ought  not  to  be  supported  by  his  father,  but 
that  the  father  should  be  supported  by  the  son?  The  father 
did  not  bring  him  into  being,  or  settle  him  in  life,  in  order 
that  when  his  son  became  a man  he  should  himself  be  the  ser- 
vant of  his  own  servants  and  should  support  him  and  his  rab- 
ble of  slaves  and  companions;  but  that  his  son  should  pro- 
tect him,  and  that  by  his  help  he  might  be  emancipated  from 
the  government  of  the  rich  and  aristocratic,  as  they  are  termed. 
And  so  he  bids  him  and  his  companions  depart,  just  as  any 
other  father  might  drive  out  of  the  house  a riotous  son  and 
his  undesirable  associates. 

By  heaven,  he  said,  then  the  parent  will  discover  what  a 
monster  he  has  been  fostering  in  his  bosom;  and,  when  he 
wants  to  drive  him  out,  he  will  find  that  he  is  weak  and  his 
son  strong. 

Why,  you  do  not  mean  to  say  that  the  tyrant  will  use  vio- 
lence? What!  beat  his  father  if  he  opposes  him? 

Yes,  he  will,  having  first  disarmed  him. 

Then  he  is  a parricide,  and  a cruel  guardian  of  an  aged 
parent;  and  this  is  real  tyranny,  about  which  there  can  be 
no  longer  a mistake:  as  the  saying  is,  the  people  who  would 
escape  the  smoke  which  is  the  slavery  of  freemen,  has  fallen 
into  the  fire  which  is  the  tyranny  of  slaves.  Thus  liberty, 
getting  out  of  all  order  and  reason,  passes  into  the  harshest 
and  bitterest  form  of  slavery. 

True,  he  said. 

Very  well ; and  may  we  not  rightly  say  that  we  have  suffi- 
ciently discussed  the  nature  of  tyranny,  and  the  manner  of 
the  transition  from  democracy  to  tyranny? 

Yes,  quite  enough,  he  said. 


Classics.  Vol.  31 — 16 


BOOK  IX 


ON  WRONG  OR  RIGHT  GOVERNMENT,  AND  THE 
PLEASURES  OF  EACH 


Socrates,  Adeimantus 

Last  of  all  comes  the  tyrannical  man;  about  whom  we 
have  once  more  to  ask,  how  is  he  formed  out  of  the 
democratical  ? and  how  does  he  live,  in  happiness  or 
in  misery? 

Yes,  he  said,  he  is  the  only  one  remaining. 

There  is,  however,  I said,  a previous  question  which  re- 
mains unanswered. 

What  question? 

I do  not  think  that  we  have  adequately  determined  the  nat- 
ure and  number  of  the  appetites,  and  until  this  is  accom- 
plished the  inquiry  will  always  be  confused. 

Well,  he  said,  it  is  not  too  late  to  supply  the  omission. 

Very  true,  I said;  and  observe  the  point  which  I want  to 
understand:  Certain  of  the  unnecessary  pleasures  and  appe- 
tites I conceive  to  be  unlawful;  everyone  appears  to  have 
them,  but  in  some  persons  they  are  controlled  by  the  laws 
and  by  reason,  and  the  better  desires  prevail  over  them — 
either  they  are  wholly  banished  or  they  become  few  and  weak ; 
while  in  the  case  of  others  they  are  stronger,  and  there  are 
more  of  them. 

Which  appetites  do  you  mean? 

I mean  those  which  are  awake  when  the  reasoning  and  hu- 
man and  ruling  power  is  asleep;  then  the  wild  beast  within 
us,  gorged  with  meat  or  drink,  starts  up  and,  having  shaken 
off  sleep,  goes  forth  to  satisfy  his  desires;  and  there  is  no 
conceivable  folly  or  crime — not  excepting  incest  or  any  other 
unnatural  union,  or  parricide,  or  the  eating  of  forbidden  food 

272 


THE  REPUBLIC 


273 

— which  at  such  a time,  when  he  has  parted  company  with 
all  shame  and  sense,  a man  may  not  be  ready  to  commit. 

Most  true^  he  said. 

But  when  a man’s  pulse  is  healthy  and  temperate,  and  when 
before  going  to  sleep  he  has  awakened  his  rational  powers,  and 
fed  them  on  noble  thoughts  and  inquiries,  collecting  himself 
in  meditation ; after  having  first  indulged  his  appetites  neither 
too  much  nor  too  little,  but  just  enough  to  lay  them  to  sleep, 
and  prevent  them  and  their  enjoyments  and  pains  from  in- 
terfering with  the  higher  principle — which  he  leaves  in  the  soli- 
tude of  pure  abstraction,  free  to  contemplate  and  aspire  to  the 
knowledge  of  the  unknown,  whether  in  past,  present,  or  future : 
when  again  he  has  allayed  the  passionate  element,  if  he  has 
a quarrel  against  anyone — I say,  when,  after  pacifying  the 
two  irrational  principles,  he  rouses  up  the  third,  which  is  rea- 
son, before  he  takes  his  rest,  then,  as  you  know,  he  attains 
truth  most  nearly,  and  is  least  likely  to  be  the  sport  of  fan- 
tastic and  lawless  visions. 

I quite  agree. 

In  saying  this  I have  been  running  into  a digression;  but 
the  point  which  I desire  to  note  is  that  in  all  of  us,  even  in 
good  men,  there  is  a lawless  wild-beast  nature,  which  peers 
out  in  sleep.  Pray,  consider  whether  I am  right,  and  you 
agree  with  me. 

Yes,  I agree. 

And  now  remember  the  character  which  we  attributed  to 
the  democratic  man.  He  was  supposed  from  his  youth  up- 
ward to  have  been  trained  under  a miserly  parent,  who  en- 
couraged the  saving  appetites  in  him,  but  discountenanced  the 
unnecessary,  which  aim  only  at  amusement  and  ornament? 

True. 

And  then  he  got  into  the  company  of  a more  refined,  licen- 
tious sort  of  people,  and  taking  to  all  their  wanton  ways 
rushed  into  the  opposite  extreme  from  an  abhorrence  of  his 
father’s  meanness.  At  last,  being  a better  man  than  his  cor- 
ruptors,  he  was  drawn  in  both  directions  until  he  halted  mid- 
way and  led  a life,  not  of  vulgar  and  slavish  passion,  but  of 
what  he  deemed  moderate  indulgence  in  various  pleasures. 
After  this  manner  the  democrat  was  generated  out  of  the 
oligarch  ? 


274 


PLATO 


Yes,  he  said;  that  was  our  view  of  him,  and  is  so  still. 

And  now,  I said,  years  will  have  passed  away,  and  you 
must  conceive  this  man,  such  as  he  is,  to  have  a son,  who  is 
brought  up  in  his  father’s  principles. 

I can  imagine  him. 

Then  you  must  further  imagine  the  same  thing  to  happen 
to  the  son  which  has  already  happened  to  the  father:  he  is 
drawn  into  a perfectly  lawless  life,  which  by  his  seducers  is 
termed  perfect  liberty;  and  his  father  and  friends  take  part 
with  his  moderate  desires,  and  the  opposite  party  assist  the 
opposite  ones.  As  soon  as  these  dire  magicians  and  tyrant- 
makers  find  that  they  are  losing  their  hold  on 'him,  they  con- 
trive to  implant  in  him  a master-passion,  to  be  lord  over  his 
idle  and  spendthrift  lusts — a sort  of  monstrous  winged  drone 
— that  is  the  only  image  which  will  adequately  describe  him. 

Yes,  he  said,  that  is  the  only  adequate  image  of  him. 

And  when  his  other  lusts,  amid  clouds  of  incense  and  per- 
fumes and  garlands  and  wines,  and  all  the  pleasures  of  a dis- 
solute life,  now  let  loose,  come  buzzing  around  him,  nourish- 
ing to  the  utmost  the  sting  of  desire  which  they  implant  in 
his  drone-like  nature,  then  at  last  this  lord  of  the  soul,  hav- 
ing Madness  for  the  captain  of  his  guard,  breaks  out  into  a 
frenzy ; and  if  he  finds  in  himself  any  good  opinions  or  appe- 
tites in  process  of  formation,^  and  there  is  in  him  any  sense 
of  shame  remaining,  to  these  better  principles  he  puts  an  end, 
and  casts  them  forth  until  he  has  purged  away  temperance  and 
brought  in  madness  to  the  full. 

Yes,  he  said,  that  is  the  way  in  which  the  tyrannical  man 
is  generated. 

And  is  not  this  the  reason  why,  of  old,  love  has  been  called 
a tyrant? 

I should  not  wonder. 

Further,  I said,  has  not  a drunken  man  also  the  spirit  of 
a tyrant? 

He  has. 

And  you  know  that  a man  who  is  deranged,  and  not  right 
in  his  mind,  will  fancy  that  he  is  able  to  rule,  not  only  over 
men,  but  also  over  the  gods? 

That  he  will. 

* Or,  “opinions  or  appetites  such  as  are  deemed  to  be  good.’* 


THE  REPUBLIC 


275 


And  the  tyrannical  man  in  the  true  sense  of  the  word  comes 
into  being  when,  either  under  the  influence  of  nature  or 
habit,  or  both,  he  becomes  drunken,  lustful,  passionate?  O 
my  friendj  is  not  that  so? 

Assuredly. 

Such  is  the  man  and  such  is  his  origin.  And  next,  how 
does  he  live  ? 

Suppose,  as  people  facetiously  say,  you  were  to  tell  me. 

I imagine,  I said,  at  the  next  step  in  his  progress,  that  there 
will  be  feasts  and  carousals  and  revellings  and  courtesans,  and 
all  that  sort  of  thing;  Love  is  the  lord  of  the  house  within 
him,  and  orders  all  the  concerns  of  his  soul. 

That  is  certain. 

Yes;  and  every  day  and  every  night  desires  grow  up  many 
and  formidable,  and  their  demands  are  many. 

They  are  indeed^  he  said. 

His  revenues,  if  he  has  any,  are  soon  spent. 

True. 

Then  come  debt  and  the  cutting  down  of  his  property. 

Of  course. 

When  he  has  nothing  left,  must  not  his  desires,  crowding 
in  the  nest  like  young  ravens,  be  crying  aloud  for  food ; and 
he,  goaded  on  by  them,  and  especially  by  love  himself,  who 
is  in  a manner  the  captain  of  them,  is  in  a frenzy,  and  would 
fain  discover  whom  he  can  defraud  or  despoil  of  his  property, 
in  order  that  he  may  gratify  them? 

Yes,  that  is  sure  to  be  the  case. 

He  must  have  money,  no  matter  how,  if  he  is  to  escape 
horrid  pains  and  pangs. 

He  must. 

And  as  in  himself  there  was  a succession  of  pleasures,  and 
the  new  got  the  better  of  the  old  and  took  away  their  rights, 
so  he  being  younger  will  claim  to  have  more  than  his  father 
and  his  mother,  and  if  he  has  spent  his  own  share  of  the  prop- 
erty, he  will  take  a slice  of  theirs. 

No  doubt  he  will. 

And  if  his  parents  will  not  give  way,  then  he  will  try  first 
of  all  to  cheat  and  deceive  them. 

Very  true. 

And  if  he  fails,  then  he  will  use  force  and  plunder  them. 


276 


PLATO 


Yes,  probably. 

And  if  the  old  man  and  woman  fight  for  their  own,  what 
then,  my  friend?  Will  the  creature  feel  any  compunction  at 
tyrannizing  over  them? 

Nay,  he  said,  I should  not  feel  at  all  comfortable  about  his 
parents. 

But,  O heavens!  Adeimantus,  on  account  of  some  new- 
fangled love  of  a harlot,  who  is  anything  but  a necessary  con- 
nection, can  you  believe  that  he  would  strike  the  mother  who 
is  his  ancient  friend  and  necessary  to  his  very  existence,  and 
would  place  her  under  the  authority  of  the  other,  when  she 
is  brought  under  the  same  roof  with  her;  or  that,  under  like 
circumstances,  he  would  do  the  same  to  his  withered  old 
father,  first  and  most  indispensable  of  friends,  for  the  sake 
of  some  newly  found  blooming  youth  who  is  the  reverse  of 
indispensable  ? 

Yes,  indeed,  he  said;  I believe  that  he  would. 

Truly,  then,  I said,  a tyrannical  son  is  a blessing  to  his 
father  and  mother. 

He  is  indeed,  he  replied. 

He  first  takes  their  property,  and  when  that  fails,  and 
pleasures  are  beginning  to  swarm  in  the  hive  of  his  soul,  then 
he  breaks  into  a house,  or  steals  the  garments  of  some  nightly 
wayfarer;  next  he  proceeds  to  clear  a temple.  Meanwhile 
the  old  opinions  which  he  had  when  a child,  and  which  gave 
judgment  about  good  and  evil,  are  overthrown  by  those  others 
which  have  just  been  emancipated,  and  are  now  the  body- 
guard of  love  and  share  his  empire.  These  in  his  democratic 
days,  vi^en  he  was  still  subject  to  the  laws  and  to  his  father, 
were  oltlly  let  loose  in  the  dreams  of  sleep.  But  now  that 
he  is  under  the  dominion  of  Love,  he  becomes  always  and  in 
waking  reality  what  he  was  then  very  rarely  and  in  a dream 
only;  he  will  commit  the  foulest  murder,  or  eat  forbidden 
food,  or  be  guilty  of  any  other  horrid  act.  Love  is  his  tyrant, 
and  lives  lordly  in  him  and  lawlessly,  and  being  himself  a 
king,  leads  him  on,  as  a tyrant  leads  a State,  to  the  per- 
formance of  any  reckless  deed  by  which  he  can  maintain  him- 
self and  the  rabble  of  his  associates,  whether  those  whom  evil 
communications  have  brought  in  from  without,  or  those  whom 
he  himself  has  allowed  to  break  loose  within  him  by  reason 


THE  REPUBLIC 


277 

of  a similar  evil  nature  in  himself.  Have  we  not  here  a pict- 
ure of  his  way  of  life? 

Yes,  indeed^  he  said. 

And  if  there  are  only  a few  of  them  in  the  State,  and  the 
rest  of  the  people  are  well  disposed,  they  go  away  and  be- 
come the  body-guard  of  mercenary  soldiers  of  some  other 
tyrant  who  may  probably  want  them  for  a war;  and  if  there 
is  no  war,  they  stay  at  home  and  do  many  little  pieces  of  mis- 
chief in  the  city. 

What  sort  of  mischief? 

For  example,  they  are  the  thieves,  burglars,  cut-purses,  foot- 
pads, robbers  of  temples,  man-stealers  of  the  community;  or 
if  they  are  able  to  speak,  they  turn  informers  and  bear  false 
witness  and  take  bribes. 

A small  catalogue  of  evils,  even  if  the  perpetrators  of  them 
are  few  in  number. 

Yes,  I said;  but  small  and  great  are  comparative  terms, 
and  all  these  things,  in  the  misery  and  evil  which  they  inflict 
upon  a State,  do  not  come  within  a thousand  miles  of  the 
tyrant;  when  this  noxious  class  and  their  followers  grow 
numerous  and  become  conscious  of  their  strength,  assisted  by 
the  infatuation  of  the  people,  they  choose  from  among  them- 
selves the  one  who  has  most  of  the  tyrant  in  his  own  soul, 
and  him  they  create  their  tyrant. 

Yes,  he  said,  and  he  will  be  the  most  fit  to  be  a tyrant. 

If  the  people  yield,  well  and  good;  but  if  they  resist  him, 
as  he  began  by  beating  his  own  father  and  mother,  so  now, 
if  he  has  the  power,  he  beats  them,  and  will  keep  his  dear 
old  fatherland  or  motherland,  as  the  Cretans  say,  in  *'ubjec- 
tion  to  his  young  retainers  whom  he  has  introduced  to  be  their 
rulers  and  masters.  This  is  the  end  of  his  passions  and  desires. 

Exactly. 

When  such  men  are  only  private  individuals  and  before  they 
get  power,  this  is  their  character ; they  associate  entirely  with 
their  own  flatterers  or  ready  tools;  or  if  they  want  anything 
from  anybody,  they  in  their  turn  are  equally  ready  to  bow 
down  before  them:  they  profess  every  sort  of  affection  for 
them ; but  when  they  have  gained  their  point  they  know  them 
no  more. 

Yes,  truly. 


PLATO 


378 

They  are  always  either  the  masters  or  servants  and  never 
the  friends  of  anybody;  the  tyrant  never  tastes  of  true  free- 
dom or  friendship. 

Certainly  not. 

And  may  we  not  rightly  call  such  men  treacherous? 

No  question. 

Also  they  are  utterly  unjust,  if  we  were  right  in  our  no- 
tion of  justice? 

Yes,  he  said,  and  we  were  perfectly  right. 

Let  us,  then,  sum  up  in  a word,  I said,  the  character  of  the 
worst  man : he  is  the  waking  reality  of  what  we  dreamed. 

Most  true. 

And  this  is  he  who  being  by  nature  most  of  a tyrant  bears 
rule,  and  the  longer  he  lives  the  more  of  a tyrant  he  becomes. 

That  is  certain,  said  Glaucon,  taking  his  turn  to  answer. 

And  will  not  he  who  has  been  shown  to  be  the  wickedest, 
be  also  the  most  miserable?  and  he  who  has  tyrannized  long- 
est and  most,  most  continually  and  truly  miserable;  although 
this  may  not  be  the  opinion  of  men  in  general  ? 

Yes,  he  said,  inevitably. 

And  must  not  the  tyrannical  man  be  like  the  tyrannical 
State,  and  the  democratical  man  like  the  democratical  State; 
and  the  same  of  the  others? 

Certainly. 

And  as  State  is  to  State  in  virtue  and  happiness,  so  is  man 
in  relation  to  man? 

To  be  sure. 

Then  comparing  our  original  city,  which  was  under  a king, 
and  the  city  which  is  under  a tyrant,  how  do  they  stand  as  to 
virtue  ? 

They  are  the  opposite  extremes,  he  said,  for  one  is  the  very 
best  and  the  other  is  the  very  worst. 

There  can  be  no  mistake,  I said,  as  to  which  is  which,  and 
therefore  I will  at  once  inquire  whether  you  would  arrive  at 
a similar  decision  about  their  relative  happiness  and  misery. 
And  here  we  must  not  allow  ourselves  to  be  panic-stricken  at 
the  apparition  of  the  tyrant,  who  is  only  a unit  and  may  per- 
haps have  a few  retainers  about  him;  but  let  us  go  as  we 
ought  into  every  corner  of  the  city  and  look  all  about,  and 
then  we  wijl  give  our  opinion. 


THE  REPUBLIC 


279 


A fair  invitation,  he  replied;  and  I see,  as  everyone  must, 
that  a tyranny  is  the  wretchedest  form  of  government,  and  the 
rule  of  a king  the  happiest. 

And  in  estimating  the  men,  too,  may  I not  fairly  make  a 
like  request,  that  I should  have  a judge  whose  mind  can  enter 
into  and  see  through  human  nature?  he  must  not  be  like  a 
child  who  looks  at  the  outside  and  is  dazzled  at  the  pompous 
aspect  which  the  tyrannical  nature  assumes  to  the  beholder, 
but  let  him  be  one  who  has  a clear  insight.  May  I suppose 
that  the  judgment  is  given  in  the  hearing  of  us  all  by  one 
who  is  able  to  judge,  and  has  dwelt  in  the  same  place  with 
him,  and  been  present  at  his  daily  life  and  known  him  in  his 
family  relations,  where  he  may  be  seen  stripped  of  his  tragedy 
attire,  and  again  in  the  hour  of  public  danger — he  shall  tell 
us  about  the  happiness  and  misery  of  the  tyrant  when  com- 
pared with  other  men? 

That  again,  he  said,  is  a very  fair  proposal. 

Shall  I assume  that  we  ourselves  are  able  and  experienced 
judges  and  have  before  now  met  with  such  a person?  We 
shall  then  have  someone  who  will  answer  our  inquiries. 

By  all  means. 

Let  me  ask  you  not  to  forget  the  parallel  of  the  individual 
and  the  State;  bearing  this  in  mind,  and  glancing  in  turn 
from  one  to  the  other  of  them,  will  you  tell  me  their  respec- 
tive conditions? 

What  do  you  mean  ? he  asked. 

Beginning  with  the  State,  I replied,  would  you  say  that  a 
city  which  is  governed  by  a tyrant  is  free  or  enslaved? 

No  city,  he  said,  can  be  more  completely  enslaved. 

And  yet,  as  you  see,  there  are  freemen  as  well  as  masters 
in  such  a State? 

Yes,  he  said,  I see  that  there  are — a few;  but  the  people, 
speaking  generally,  and  the  best  of  them  are  miserably  de- 
graded and  enslaved. 

Then  if  the  man  is  like  the  State,  I said,  must  not  the  same 
rule  prevail?  His  soul  is  full  of  meanness  and  vulgarity — 
the  best  elements  in  him  are  enslaved;  and  there  is  a small 
ruling  part,  which  is  also  the  worst  and  maddest. 

Inevitably. 

And  would  you  say  that  the  soul  of  such  a one  is  the  soul 
of  d freeman  or  of  a slave? 


28o 


PLATO 


He  has  the  soul  of  a slave,  in  my  opinion. 

And  the  State  which  is  enslaved  under  a tyrant  is  utterly 
incapable  of  acting  voluntarily? 

Utterly  incapable. 

And  also  the  soul  which  is  under  a tyrant  (I  am  speaking 
of  the  soul  taken  as  a whole)  is  least  capable  of  doing  what 
she  desires;  there  is  a gadfly  which  goads  her,  and  she  is 
full  of  trouble  and  remorse? 

Certainly. 

And  is  the  city  which  is  under  a tyrant  rich  or  poor? 

Poor. 

And  the  tyrannical  soul  must  be  always  poor  and  insatiable  ? 

True. 

And  must  not  such  a State  and  such  a man  be  always  full 
of  fear? 

Yes,  indeed. 

Is  there  any  State  in  which  you  will  find  more  of  lamenta- 
tion and  sorrow  and  groaning  and  pain? 

Certainly  not. 

And  is  there  any  man  in  whom  you  will  find  more  of  this 
sort  of  misery  than  in  the  tyrannical  man,  who  is  in  a fury 
of  passions  and  desires? 

Impossible. 

Reflecting  upon  these  and  similar  evils,  you  h^ld  the  tyran- 
nical State  to  be  the  most  miserable  of  States? 

And  I was  right,  he  said. 

Certainly,  I said.  And  when  you  see  the  same  evils  in  the 
tyrannical  man,  what  do  you  say  of  him? 

I say  that  he  is  by  far  the  most  miserable  of  all  men. 

There,  I said,  I think  that  you  are  beginning  to  go  wrong. 

What  do  you  mean? 

I do  not  think  that  he  has  as  yet  reached  the  utmost  ex- 
treme of  misery. 

Then  who  is  more  miserable? 

One  of  whom  I am  about  to  speak. 

Who  is  that? 

He  who  is  of  a tyrannical  nature,  and  instead  of  leading  a 
private  life  has  been  cursed  with  the  further  misfortune  of 
being  a public  tyrant. 

From  what  has  been  said,  I gather  that  you  are  right. 


THE  REPUBLIC 


281 


Yes,  I replied,  but  in  this  high  argument  you  should  be  a 
little  more  certain,  and  should  not  conjecture  only;  for  of  all 
questions,  this  respecting  good  and  evil  is  the  greatest. 

Very  true,  he  said. 

Let  me  then  offer  you  an  illustration,  which  may,  I think, 
throw  a light  upon  this  subject. 

What  is  your  illustration? 

The  case  of  rich  individuals  in  cities  who  possess  many 
slaves : from  them  you  may  form  an  idea  of  the  tyrant’s  con- 
dition, for  they  both  have  slaves;  the  only  difference  is  that 
he  has  more  slaves. 

Yes,  that  is  the  difference. 

You  know  that  they  live  securely  and  have  nothing  to  ap- 
prehend from  their  servants? 

What  should  they  fear? 

Nothing.  But  do  you  observe  the  reason  of  this? 

Yes;  the  reason  is,  that  the  whole  city  is  leagued  together 
for  the  protection  of  each  individual. 

Very  true,  I said.  But  imagine  one  of  these  owners,  the 
master  say  of  some  fifty  slaves,  together  with  his  family  and 
property  and  slaves,  carried  off  by  a god  into  the  wilderness, 
where  there  are  no  freemen  to  help  him — will  he  not  be  in 
an  agony  of  fear  lest  he  and  his  wife  and  children  should  be 
put  to  death  by  his  slaves? 

Yes,  he  said,  he  will  be  in  the  utmost  fear. 

The  time  has  arrived  when  he  will  be  compelled  to  flatter 
divers  of  his  slaves,  and  make  many  promises  to  them  of  free- 
dom and  other  things,  much  against  his  will — he  will  have 
to  cajole  his  own  servants. 

Yes,  he  said,  that  will  be  the  only  way  of  saving  himself. 

And  suppose  the  same  god,  who  carried  him  away,  to  sur- 
round him  with  neighbors  who  will  not  suffer  one  man  to 
be  the  master  of  another,  and  who,  if  they  could  catch  the 
offender,  would  take  his  life? 

His  case  will  be  still  worse,  if  you  suppose  him  to  be  every- 
where surrounded  and  watched  by  enemies. 

And  is  not  this  the  sort  of  prison  in  which  the  tyrant  will 
be  bound — he  who  being  by  nature  such  as  we  have  described, 
is  full  of  all  sorts  of  fears  and  lusts?  His  soul  is  dainty  and 
greedy,  and  yet  alone,  of  all  men  in  the  city,  he  is  never 


282 


PLATO 


allowed  to  go  on  a journey,  or  to  see  the  things  which  other 
freemen  desire  to  see,  but  he  lives  in  his  hole  like  a woman 
hidden  in  the  house,  and  is  jealous  of  any  other  citizen  who 
goes  into  foreign  parts  and  sees  anything  of  interest. 

Very  true,  he  said. 

And  amid  evils  such  as  these  will  not  he  who  is  ill-governed 
in  his  own  person — the  tyrannical  man,  I mean — whom  you 
just  now  decided  to  be  the  most  miserable  of  all— will  not 
he  be  yet  more  * miserable  when,  instead  of  leading  a private 
life,  he  is  constrained  by  fortune  to  be  a public  tyrant?  He 
has  to  be  master  of  others  when  he  is  not  master  of  himself: 
he  is  like  a diseased  or  paralytic  man  who  is  compelled  to  pass 
his  life,  not  in  retirement,  but  fighting  and  combating  with 
other  men. 

Yes,  he  said,  the  similitude  is  most  exact. 

Is  not  his  case  utterly  miserable?  and  does  not  the  actual 
tyrant  lead  a worse  life  than  he  whose  life  you  determined  to 
be  the  worst  ? 

Certainly. 

He  who  is  the  real  tyrant,  whatever  men  may  think,  is  the 
real  slave,  and  is  obliged  to  practise  the  greatest  adulation 
and  servility,  and  to  be  the  flatterer  of  the  vilest  of  mankind. 
He  has  desires  which  he  is  utterly  unable  to  satisfy,  and  has 
more  wants  than  anyone,  and  is  truly  poor,  if  you  know  how 
to  inspect  the  whole  soul  of  him:  all  his  life  long  he  is  beset 
with  fear  and  is  full  of  convulsions  and  distractions,  even  as 
the  State  which  he  resembles:  and  surely  the  resemblance 
holds  ? 

Very  true,  he  said. 

Moreover,  as  we  were  saying  before,  he  grows  worse  from 
having  power:  he  becomes  and  is  of  necessity  more  jealous, 
more  faithless,  more  unjust,  more  friendless,  more  impious, 
than  he  was  at  first;  he  is  the  purveyor  and  cherisher  of 
every  sort  of  vice,  and  the  consequence  is  that  he  is  supremely 
miserable,  and  that  he  makes  everybody  else  as  miserable  as 
himself. 

No  man  of  any  sense  will  dispute  your  words. 

Come,  then,  I said,  and  as  the  general  umpire  in  theatrical 
contests  proclaims  the  result,  do  you  also  decide  who  in  your 
opinion  is  first  in  the  scale  of  happiness,  and  who  second,  and 


THE  REPUBLIC 


283 


in  what  order  the  others  follow : there  are  five  of  them  in  all 
— they  are  the  royal,  timocratical,  oligarchical,  democratical, 
tyrannical. 

The  decision  will  be  easily  given,  he  replied;  they  shall  be 
choruses  coming  on  the  stage,  and  I must  judge  them  in  the 
order  in  which  they  enter,  by  the  criterion  of  virtue  and  vice, 
happiness  and  misery. 

Need  we  hire  a herald,  or  shall  I announce  that  the  son 
of  Ariston  (the  best)  has  decided  that  the  best  and  justest 
is  also  the  happiest,  and  that  this  is  he  who  is  the  most  royal 
man  and  king  over  himself ; and  that  the  worst  and  most  un- 
just man  is  also  the  most  miserable,  and  that  this  is  he  who 
being  the  greatest  tyrant  of  himself  is  also  the  greatest  tyrant 
of  his  State  ? 

Make  the  proclamation  yourself,  he  said. 

And  shall  I add,  ‘‘  whether  seen  or  unseen  by  gods  and 
men  ’’  ? 

Let  the  words  be  added. 

Then  this,  I said,  will  be  our  first  proof ; and  there  is  an- 
other, which  may  also  have  some  weight. 

What  is  that? 

The  second  proof  is  derived  from  the  nature  of  the  soul: 
seeing  that  the  individual  soul,  like  the  State,  has  been  di- 
vided by  us  into  three  principles,  the  division  may,  I think, 
furnish  a new  demonstration. 

Of  what  nature? 

It  seems  to  me  that  to  these  three  principles  three  pleasures 
correspond;  also  three  desires  and  governing  powers. 

How  do  you  mean?  he  said. 

There  is  one  principle  with  which,  as  we  were  saying,  a 
man  learns,  another  with  which  he  is  angry;  the  third,  hav- 
ing many  forms,  has  no  special  name,  but  is  denoted  by  the 
general  term  appetitive,  from  the  extraordinary  strength  and 
vehemence  of  the  desires  of  eating  and  drinking  and  the  other 
sensual  appetites  which  are  the  main  elements  of  it;  also 
money-loving,  because  such  desires  are  generally  satisfied  by 
the  help  of  money. 

That  is  true,  he  said. 

If  we  were  to  say  that  the  loves  and  pleasures  of  this  third 
part  were  concerned  with  gain,  we  should  then  be  able  to  fall 


284 


PLATO 


back  on  a single  notion;  and  might  truly  and  intelligibly  de- 
scribe this  part  of  the  soul  as  loving  gain  or  money. 

I agree  with  you. 

Again,  is  not  the  passionate  element  wholly  set  on  ruling 
and  conquering  and  getting  fame? 

True. 

Suppose  we  call  it  the  contentious  or  ambitious — would  the 
term  be  suitable? 

Extremely  suitable. 

On  the  other  hand,  everyone  sees  that  the  principle  of  knowl- 
edge is  wholly  directed  to  the  truth,  and  cares  less  than  either 
of  the  others  for  gain  or  fame. 

Far  less. 

“ Lover  of  wisdom,”  “ lover  of  knowledge,”  are  titles  which 
we  may  fitly  apply  to  that  part  of  the  soul? 

Certainly. 

One  principle  prevails  in  the  souls  of  one  class  of  men,  an- 
other in  others,  as  may  happen? 

Yes. 

Then  we  may  begin  by  assuming  that  there  are  three  classes 
of  men — ^lovers  of  wisdom,  lovers  of  honor,  lovers  of  gain? 

Exactly. 

And  there  are  three  kinds  of  pleasure,  which  are  their  sev- 
eral objects? 

Very  true. 

Now,  if  you  examine  the  three  classes  of  men,  and  ask  of 
them  in  turn  which  of  their  lives  is  pleasantest,  each  will  be 
found  praising  his  own  and  depreciating  that  of  others:  the 
money-maker  will  contrast  the  vanity  of  honor  or  of  learning 
if  they  bring  no  money  with  the  solid  advantages  of  gold 
and  silver? 

True,  he  said. 

And  the  lover  of  honor — ^what  will  be  his  opinion?  Will 
he  not  think  that  the  pleasure  of  riches  is  vulgar,  while  the 
pleasure  of  learning,  if  it  brings  no  distinction,  is  all  smoke 
and  nonsense  to  him? 

Very  true. 

And  are  we  to  suppose,^  I said,  that  the  philosopher  sets 

* Reading  with  Grasere  and  Hermann  ri  and  omitting  ovBiy,  which  is  not  found 

in  the  best  MSS. 


THE  REPUBLIC 


285 

any  value  on  other  pleasures  in  comparison  with  the  pleasure 
of  knowing  the  truth,  and  in  that  pursuit  abiding,  ever  learn- 
ing, not  so  far  indeed  from  the  heaven  of  pleasure?  Does 
he  not  call  the  other  pleasures  necessary,  under  the  idea  that 
if  there  were  no  necessity  for  them,  he  would  rather  not  have 
them? 

There  can  be  no  doubt  of  that,  he  replied. 

Since,  then,  the  pleasures  of  each  class  and  the  life  of  each 
are  in  dispute,  and  the  question  is  not  which  life  is  more  or 
less  honorable,  or  better  or  worse,  but  which  is  the  more 
pleasant  or  painless — how  shall  we  know  who  speaks  truly? 

I cannot  myself  tell,  he  said. 

Well,  but  what  ought  to  be  the  criterion?  Is  any  better 
than  experience,  and  wisdom,  and  reason? 

There  cannot  be  a better,  he  said. 

Then,  I said,  reflect.  Of  the  three  individuals,  which  has 
the  greatest  experience  of  all  the  pleasures  which  we  enumer- 
ated? Has  the  lover  of  gain,  in  learning  the  nature  of  essen- 
tial truth,  greater  experience  of  the  pleasure  of  knowledge 
than  the  philosopher  has  of  the  pleasure  of  gain? 

The  philosopher,  he  replied,  has  greatly  the  advantage;  for 
he  has  of  necessity  always  known  the  taste  of  the  other  pleas- 
ures from  his  childhood  upward:  but  the  lover  of  gain  in  all 
his  experience  has  not  of  necessity  .tasted — or,  I should  rather 
say,  even  had  he  desired,  could  hardly  have  tasted — the  sweet- 
ness of  learning  and  knowing  truth. 

Then  the  lover  of  wisdom  has  a great  advantage  over  the 
lover  of  gain,  for  he  has  a double  experience? 

Yes,  very  great. 

Again,  has  he  greater  experience  of  the  pleasures  of  honor, 
or  the  lover  of  honor  of  the  pleasures  of  wisdom? 

Nay,  he  said,  all  three  are  honored  in  proportion  as  they 
attain  their  object;  for  the  rich  man  and  the  brave  man  and 
the  wise  man  alike  have  their  crowd  of  admirers,  and  as  they 
all  receive  honor  they  all  have  experience  of  the  pleasures  of 
honor;  but  the  delight  which  is  to  be  found  in  the  knowledge 
of  true  being  is  known  to  the  philosopher  only. 

His  experience,  then,  will  enable  him  to  judge  better  than 
anyone  ? 

Far  better. 


986 


PLATO 


And  he  is  the  only  one  who  has  wisdom  as  well  as  experi- 
ence? 

Certainly. 

Further,  the  very  faculty  which  is  the  instrument  of  judg- 
ment is  not  possessed  by  the  covetous  or  ambitious  man,  but 
only  by  the  philosopher? 

What  faculty? 

Reason,  with  whom,  as  we  were  saying,  the  decision  ought 
to  rest. 

Yes. 

And  reasoning  is  peculiarly  his  instrument  ? 

Certainly. 

If  wealth  and  gain  were  the  criterion,  then  the  praise  or 
blame  of  the  lover  of  gain  would  surely  be  the  most  trust- 
worthy ? 

Assuredly. 

Or  if  honor,  or  victory,  or  courage,  in  that  case  the  judg- 
ment of  the  ambitious  or  pugnacious  would  be  the  truest  ? 

Clearly. 

But  since  experience  and  wisdom  and  reason  are  the 
judges 

The  only  inference  possible,  he  replied,  is  that  pleasures 
which  are  approved  by  the  lover  of  wisdom  and  reason  are 
the  truest. 

And  so  we  arrive  at  the  result,  that  the  pleasure  of  the  in- 
telligent part  of  the  soul  is  the  pleasantest  of  the  three,  and 
that  he  of  us  in  whom  this  is  the  ruling  principle  has  the 
pleasantest  life. 

Unquestionably,  he  said,  the  wise  man  speaks  with  authority 
when  he  approves  of  his  own  life. 

And  what  does  the  judge  affirm  to  be  the  life  which  is  next, 
and  the  pleasure  which  is  next? 

Clearly  that  of  the  soldier  and  lover  of  honor ; who  is  nearer 
to  himself  than  the  money-maker. 

Last  comes  the  lover  of  gain? 

Very  true,  he  said. 

Twice  in  succession,  then,  has  the  just  man  overthrown  the 
unjust  in  this  conflict;  and  now  comes  the  third  trial,  which 
is  dedicated  to  Olympian  Zeus  the  saviour:  a sage  whispers 
in  my  ear  that  no  pleasure  except  that  of  the  wise  is  quite 


THE  REPUBLIC  2^7 

true  and  pure — all  others  are  a shadow  only;  and  surely  this 
will  prove  the  greatest  and  most  decisive  of  falls? 

Yes,  the  greatest;  but  will  you  explain  yourself? 

I will  work  out  the  subject  and  you  shall  answer  my  ques- 
tions. 

Proceed. 

Say,  then,  is  not  pleasure  opposed  to  pain? 

True. 

And  there  is  a neutral  state  which  is  neither  pleasure  nor 
pain? 

There  is. 

A state  which  is  intermediate,  and  a sort  of  repose  of  the 
soul  about  either — that  is  what  you  mean? 

Yes. 

You  remember  what  people  say  when  they  are  sick? 

What  do  they  say? 

That  after  all  nothing  is  pleasanter  than  health.  But  then 
they  never  knew  this  to  be  the  greatest  of  pleasures  until  they 
were  ill. 

Yes,  I know,  he  said. 

And  when  persons  are  suffering  from  acute  pain,  you  must 
have  heard  them  say  that  there  is  nothing  pleasanter  than  to 
get  rid  of  their  pain? 

I have. 

And  there  are  many  other  cases  of  suffering  in  which  the 
mere  rest  and  cessation  of  pain,  and  not  any  positive  enjoy- 
ment, are  extolled  by  them  as  the  greatest  pleasure? 

Yes,  he  said;  at  the  time  they  are  pleased  and  well  content 
to  be  at  rest. 

Again,  when  pleasure  ceases,  that  sort  of  rest  or  cessation 
will  be  painful  ? 

Doubtless,  he  said. 

Then  the  intermediate  state  of  rest  will  be  pleasure  and  will 
also  be  pain? 

So  it  would  seem. 

But  can  that  which  is  neither  become  both? 

I should  say  not. 

And  both  pleasure  and  pain  are  motions  of  the  soul,  are 
they  not? 

Yes, 


288 


PLATO 


But  that  which  is  neither  was  just  now  shown  to  be  rest 
and  not  motion,  and  in  a mean  between  them  ? 

Yes. 

How,  then,  can  we  be  right  in  supposing  that  the  absence 
of  pain  is  pleasure,  or  that  the  absence  of  pleasure  is  pain? 

Impossible. 

This,  then,  is  an  appearance  only,  and  not  a reality;  that  is 
to  say,  the  rest  is  pleasure  at  the  moment  and  in  comparison 
of  what  is  painful,  and  painful  in  comparison  of  what  is  pleas- 
ant; but  all  these  representations,  when  tried  by  the  test  of 
true  pleasure,  are  not  real,  but  a sort  of  imposition? 

That  is  the  inference. 

Look  at  the  other  class  of  pleasures  which  have  no  ante- 
cedent pains  and  you  will  no  longer  suppose,  as  you  perhaps 
may  at  present,  that  pleasure  is  only  the  cessation  of  pain,  or 
pain  of  pleasure. 

What  are  they,  he  said,  and  where  shall  I find  them? 

There  are  many  of  them : take  as  an  example,  the  pleasures 
of  smell,  which  are  very  great  and  have  no  antecedent  pains; 
they  come  in  a moment,  and  when  they  depart  leave  no  pain 
behind  them. 

Most  true,  he  said. 

Let  us  not,  then,  be  induced  to  believe  that  pure  pleasure 
is  the  cessation  of  pain,  or  pain  of  pleasure. 

No. 

Still,  the  more  numerous  and  violent  pleasures  which  reach 
the  soul  through  the  body  are  generally  of  this  sort — ^they  are 
reliefs  of  pain. 

That  is  true. 

And  the  anticipations  of  future  pleasures  and  pains  are  of 
a like  nature? 

Yes. 

Shall  I give  you  an  illustration  of  them? 

Let  me  hear. 

You  would  allow,  I said,  that  there  is  in  nature  an  upper 
and  lower  and  middle  region? 

I should. 

And  if  a person  were  to  go  from  the  lower  to  the  middle 
region,  would  he  not  imagine  that  he  is  going  up;  and  he 
who  is  standing  in  the  middle  and  sees  whence  he  has  come. 


THE  REPUBLIC  289 

would  imagine  that  he  is  already  in  the  upper  region,  if  he 
has  never  seen  the  true  upper  world  ? 

To  be  sure,  he  said;  how  can  he  think  otherwise? 

But  if  he  were  taken  back  again  he  would  imagine,  and  truly 
imagine,  that  he  was  descending? 

No  doubt. 

All  that  would  arise  out  of  his  ignorance  of  the  true  upper 
and  middle  and  lower  regions? 

Yes. 

Then  can  you  wonder  that  persons  who  are  inexperienced 
in  the  truth,  as  they  have  wrong  ideas  about  many  other  things, 
should  also  have  wrong  ideas  about  pleasure  and  pain  and 
the  intermediate  state;  so  that  when  they  are  only  being 
drawn  toward  the  painful  they  feel  pain  and  think  the  pain 
which  they  experience  to  be  real,  and  in  like  manner,  when 
drawn  away  from  pain  to  the  neutral  or  intermediate  state, 
they  firmly  believe  that  they  have  reached  the  goal  of  satiety 
and  pleasure;  they,  not  knowing  pleasure,  err  in  contrasting 
pain  with  the  absence  of  pain,  which  is  like  contrasting  black 
with  gray  instead  of  white — can  you  wonder,  I say,  at  this? 

No,  indeed;  I should  be  much  more  disposed  to  wonder 
at  the  opposite. 

Look  at  the  matter  thus:  Hunger,  thirst,  and  the  like,  are 
inanitions  of  the  bodily  state? 

Yes. 

And  ignorance  and  folly  are  inanitions  of  the  soul? 

True. 

And  food  and  wisdom  are  the  corresponding  satisfactions 
of  either? 

Certainly. 

And  is  the  satisfaction  derived  from  that  which  has  less  or 
from  that  which  has  more  existence  the  truer? 

Clearly,  from  that  which  has  more. 

What  classes  of  things  have  a greater  share  of  pure  ex- 
istence, in  your  judgment — those  of  which  food  and  drink  and 
condiments  and  all  kinds  of  sustenance  are  examples,  or  the 
class  which  contains  true  opinion  and  knowledge  and  mind 
and  all  the  different  kinds  of  virtue?  Put  the  question  in  this 
way:  Which  has  a more  pure  being — that  which  is  concerned 
with  the  invariable,  the  immortal,  and  the  true,  and  is  of  such 


290 


PLATO 


a nature,  and  is  found  in  such  natures ; or  that  which  is  con- 
cerned with  and  found  in  the  variable  and  mortal,  and  is  itself 
variable  and  mortal? 

Far  purer,  he  replied,  is  the  being  of  that  which  is  con- 
cerned with  the  invariable. 

And  does  the  essence  of  the  invariable  partake  of  knowl- 
edge in  the  same  degree  as  of  essence? 

Yes,  of  knowledge  in  the  same  degree. 

And  of  truth  in  the  same  degree? 

Yes. 

And,  conversely,  that  which  has  less  of  truth  will  also  have 
less  of  essence  ? 

Necessarily. 

Then,  in  general,  those  kinds  of  things  which  are  in  the 
service  of  the  body  have  less  of  truth  and  essence  than  those 
which  are  in  the  service  of  the  soul? 

Far  less. 

And  has  not  the  body  itself  less  of  truth  and  essence  than 
the  soul? 

Yes. 

What  is  filled  with  more  real  existence,  and  actually  has  a 
more  real  existence,  is  more  really  filled  than  that  which  is 
filled  with  less  real  existence  and  is  less  real? 

Of  course. 

And  if  there  be  a pleasure  in  being  filled  with  that  which 
is  according  to  nature,  that  which  is  more  really  filled  with 
more  real  being  will  more  really  and  truly  enjoy  true  pleas- 
ure; whereas  that  which  participates  in  less  real  being  will 
be  less  truly  and  surely  satisfied,  and  will  participate  in  an 
illusory  and  less  real  pleasure? 

Unquestionably. 

Those,  then,  who  know  not  wisdom  and  virtue,  and  are  al- 
ways busy  with  gluttony  and  sensuality,  go  down  and  up 
again  as  far  as  the  mean;  and  in  this  region  they  move  at 
random  throughout  life,  but  they  never  pass  into  the  true 
upper  world ; thither  they  neither  look,  nor  do  they  ever  find 
their  way,  neither  are  they  truly  filled  with  true  being,  nor  do 
they  taste  of  pure  and  abiding  pleasure.  Like  cattle,  with 
their  eyes  always  looking  down  and  their  heads  stooping  to 
the  earth,  that  is,  to  the  dining-table,  they  fatten  and  feed  and 


THE  REPUBLIC 


391 


breed,  and,  in  their  excessive  love  of  these  delights,  they  kick 
and  butt,  at  one  another  with  horns  and  hoofs  which  are  made 
of  iron ; and  they  kill  one  another  by  reason  of  their  insatiable 
lust.  For  they  fill  themselves  with  that  which  is  not  sub- 
stantial, and  the  part  of  themselves  which  they  fill  is  also  un- 
substantial and  incontinent. 

Verily,  Socrates,  said  Glaucon,  you  describe  the  life  of  the 
many  like  an  oracle. 

Their  pleasures  are  mixed  with  pains — how  can  they  be 
otherwise?  For  they  are  mere  shadows  and  pictures  of  the 
true,  and  are  colored  by  contrast,  which  exaggerates  both  light 
and  shade,  and  so  they  implant  in  the  minds  of  fools  insane 
desires  of  themselves;  and  they  are  fought  about  as  Stesich- 
orus  says  that  the  Greeks  fought  about  the  shadow  of  Helen 
at  Troy,  in  ignorance  of  the  truth. 

Something  of  that  sort  must  inevitably  happen. 

And  must  not  the  like  happen  with  the  spirited  or  passionate 
element  of  the  soul?  Will  not  the  passionate  man  who  car- 
ries his  passion  into  action,  be  in  the  like  case,  whether  he  is 
envious  and  ambitious,  or  violent  and  contentious,  or  angry 
and  discontented,  if  he  be  seeking  to  attain  honor  and  victory 
and  the  satisfaction  of  his  anger  without  reason  or  sense? 

Yes,  he  said,  the  same  will  happen  with  the  spirited  ele- 
ment also.  ♦ 

Then  may  we  not  confidently  assert  that  the  lovers  of  money 
and  honor,  when  they  seek  their  pleasures  under  the  guidance 
and  in  the  company  of  reason  and  knowledge,  and  pursue  after 
and  win  the  pleasures  which  wisdom  shows  them,  will  also 
have  the  truest  pleasures  in  the  highest  degree  which  is  attain- 
able to  them,  inasmuch  as  they  follow  truth;  and  they  will 
have  the  pleasures  which  are  natural  to  them,  if  that  which 
is  best  for  each  one  is  also  most  natural  to  him? 

Yes,  certainly;  the  best  is  the  most  natural. 

And  when  the  whole  soul  follows  the  philosophical  prin- 
ciple, and  there  is  no  division,  the  several  parts  are  just,  and 
do  each  of  them  their  own  business,  and  enjoy  severally  the 
best  and  truest  pleasures  of  which  they  are  capable? 

Exactly. 

But  when  either  of  the  two  other  principles  prevails,  it  fails 
in  attaining  its  own  pleasure,  and  compels  the  rest  to  pursue 


292 


PLATO 


after  a pleasure  which  is  a shadow  only  and  which  is  not  their 
own? 

True. 

And  the  greater  the  interval  which  separates  them  from 
philosophy  and  reason,  the  more  strange  and  illusive  will  be 
the  pleasure? 

Yes. 

And  is  not  that  farthest  frpm  reason  which  is  at  the  greatest 
distance  from  law  and  order? 

Clearly. 

And  the  lustful  and  tyrannical  desires  are,  as  we  saw,  at 
the  greatest  distance? 

Yes. 

And  the  royal  and  orderly  desires  are  nearest? 

Yes. 

Then  the  tyrant  will  live  at  the  greatest  distance  from  true 
or  natural  pleasure,  and  the  king  at  the  least? 

Certainly. 

But  if  so,  the  tyrant  will  live  most  unpleasantly,  and  the 
king  most  pleasantly? 

Inevitably. 

Would  you  know  the  measure  of  the  interval  which  sepa- 
rates them? 

Will  you  tell  cne? 

There  appear  to  be  three  pleasures,  one  genuine  and  two 
spurious:  now  the  transgression  of  the  tyrant  reaches  a point 
beyond  the  spurious;  he  has  run  away  from  the  region  of 
law  and  reason,  and  taken  up  his  abode  with  certain  slave 
pleasures  which  are  his  satellites,  and  the  measure  of  his  in- 
feriority can  only  be  expressed  in  a figure. 

How  do  you  mean? 

I assume,  I said,  that  the  tyrant  is  in  the  third  place  from 
the  oligarch;  the  democrat  was  in  the  middle? 

Yes. 

And  if  there  is  truth  in  what  has  preceded,  he  will  be 
wedded  to  an  image  of  pleasure  which  is  thrice  removed  as 
to  truth  from  the  pleasure  of  the  oligarch? 

He  will. 

And  the  oligarch  is  third  from  the  royal;  since  we  count 
as  one  royal  and  aristocratical  ? 


THE  REPUBLIC 


«93 


Yes,  he  is  third. 

Then  the  tyrant  is  removed  from  true  pleasure  by  the  space 
of  a number  which  is  three  times  three? 

Manifestly. 

The  shadow,  then,  of  tyrannical  pleasure  determined  by  the 
number  of  length  will  be  a plane  figure. 

Certainly. 

And  if  you  raise  the  power  and  make  the  plane  a solid,  there 
is  no  difficulty  in  seeing  how  vast  is  the  interval  by  which 
the  tyrant  is  parted  from  the  king. 

Yes;  the  arithmetician  will  easily  do  the  sum. 

Or  if  some  person  begins  at  the  other  end  and  measures 
the  interval  by  which  the  king  is  parted  from  the  tyrant  in 
truth  of  pleasure,  he  will  find  him,  when  the  multiplication  is 
completed,  living  729  * times  more  pleasantly,  and  the  tyrant 
more  painfully  by  this  same  interval. 

What  a wonderful  calculation!  And  how  enormous  is  the 
distance  which  separates  the  Just  from  the  unjust  in  regard  to 
pleasure  and  pain ! 

Yet  a true  calculation,  I said,  and  a number  which  nearly 
concerns  human  life,  if  human  beings  are  concerned  with  days 
and  nights  and  months  and  years. 

Yes,  he  said,  human  life  is  certainly  concerned  with  them. 

Then  if  the  good  and  just  man  be  thus  superior  in  pleasure 
to  the  evil  and  unjust,  his  superiority  will  be  infinitely  greater 
in  propriety  of  life  and  in  beauty  and  virtue? 

Immeasurably  greater. 

Well,  I said,  and  now  having  arrived  at  this  stage  of  the 
argument,  we  may  revert  to  the  words  which  brought  us 
hither:  Was  not  someone  saying  that  injustice  was  a gain 
to  the  perfectly  unjust  who  was  reputed  to  be  just? 

Yes,  that  was  said. 

Now,  then,  having  determined  the  power  and  quality  of 
justice  and  injustice,  let  us  have  a little  conversation  with  him. 

What  shall  we  say  to  him? 

Let  us  make  an  image  of  the  soul,  that  he  may  have  his 
own  words  presented  before  his  eyes. 

Of  what  sort? 

An  ideal  image  of  the  soul,  like  the  composite  creations  of 

* 729  nearly  equals  the  number  of  days  and  nights  in  the  year. 


394 


PLATO 


ancient  mythology,  such  as  the  Chimera,  or  Scylla,  or  Cerberus, 
and  there  are  many  others  in  which  two  or  more  different 
natures  are  said  to  grow  into  one. 

There  are  said  to  have  been  such  unions. 

Then  do  you  now  model  the  form  of  a multitudinous,  many- 
headed monster , having  a ring  of  heads  of  all  manner  of 
beasts,  tame  and  wild,  which  he  is  able  to  generate  and  meta- 
morphose at  will. 

You  suppose  marvellous  powers  in  the  artist;  but,  as  lan- 
guage is  more  pliable  than  wax  or  any  similar  substance,  let 
there  be  such  a model  as  you  propose. 

Suppose  now  that  you  make  a second  form  as  of  a lion,  and 
a third  of  a man,  the  second  smaller  than  the  first,  and  the 
third  smaller  than  the  second. 

That,  he  said,  is  an  easier  task;  and  I have  made  them  as 
you  say. 

And  now  join  them,  and  let  the  three  grow  into  one. 

That  has  been  accomplished. 

Next  fashion  the  outside  of  them  into  a single  image,  as  of 
a man,  so  that  he  who  is  not  able  to  look  within,  and  sees  only 
the  outer  hull,  may  believe  the  beast  to  be  a single  human 
creature. 

I have  done  so,  he  said. 

And  now,  to  him  who  maintains  that  it  is  profitable  for  the 
human  creature  to  be  unjust,  and  unprofitable  to  be  just,  let 
us  reply  that,  if  he  be  right,  it  is  profitable  for  this  creature 
to  feast  the  multitudinous  monster  and  strengthen  the  lion  and 
the  lion-like  qualities,  but  to  starve  and  weaken  the  man,  who 
is  consequently  liable  to  be  dragged  about  at  the  mercy  of 
either  of  the  other  two ; and  he  is  not  to  attempt  to  familiarize 
or  harmonize  them  with  one  another — he  ought  rather  to  suf-  . 
fer  them  to  fight,  and  bite  and  devour  one  another. 

Certainly,  he  said;  that  is  what  the  approver  of  injustice  j 
says.  i 

To  him  the  supporter  of  justice  makes  answer  that  he  ' 
should  ever  so  speak  and  act  as  to  give  the  man  within  him 
in  some  way  or  other  the  most  complete  mastery  over  the 
entire  human  creature.  He  should  watch  over  the  many- 
headed monster  like  a good  husbandman,  fostering  and  culti- 
vating the  gentle  qualities,  and  preventing  the  wild  ones  from 


THE  REPUBLIC 


295 


growing;  he  should  be  making  the  lion-heart  his  ally,  and  in 
common  care  of  them  all  should  be  uniting  the  several  parts 
with  one  another  and  with  himself. 

Yes,  he  said,  that  is  quite  what  the  maintainer  of  justice 
will  say. 

And  so  from  every  point  of  view,  whether  of  pleasure, 
honor,  or  advantage,  the  approver  of  justice  is  right  and 
speaks  the  truth,  and  the  disapprover  is  wrong  and  false  and 
ignorant  ? 

Yes,  from  every  point  of  view. 

Come,  now,  and  let  us  gently  reason  with  the  unjust,  who 
is  not  intentionally  in  error.  Sweet  sir,”  we  will  say  to  him, 
‘‘  what  think  you  of  things  esteemed  noble  and  ignoble  ? Is 
not  the  noble  that  which  subjects  the  beast  to  the  man,  or 
rather  to  the  god  in  man?  and  the  ignoble  that  which  sub- 
jects the  man  to  the  beast?”  He  can  hardly  avoid  saying. 
Yes — can  he^  now? 

Not  if  he  has  any  regard  for  my  opinion. 

But,  if  he  agree  so  far,  we  may  ask  him  to  answer  another 
question : ‘‘  Then  how  would  a man  profit  if  he  received  gold 
and  silver  on  the  condition  that  he  was  to  enslave  the  noblest 
part  of  him  to  the  worst?  Who  can  imagine  that  a man  who 
sold  his  son  or  daughter  into  slavery  for  money,  especially  if 
he  sold  them  into  the  hands  of  fierce  and  evil  men,  would  be 
the  gainer,  however  large  might  be  the  sum  which  he  re- 
ceived? And  will  anyone  say  that  he  is  not  a miserable 
caitiff  who  remorselessly  sells  his  own  divine  being  to  that 
which  is  most  godless  and  detestable?  Eriphyle  took  the 
necklace  as  the  price  of  her  husband's  life,  but  he  is  taking  a 
bribe  in  order  to  compass  a worse  ruin.” 

Yes,  said  Glaucon,  far  worse — I will  answer  for  him. 

Has  not  the  intemperate  been  censured  of  old,  because  in 
him  the  huge  multiform  monster  is  allowed  to  be  too  much  at 
large  ? 

Clearly. 

And  men  are  blamed  for  pride  and  bad  temper  when  the 
lion  and  serpent  element  in  them  disproportionately  grows  and 
gains  strength? 

Yes. 

And  luxury  and  softness  are  blamed,  because  they  relax 

and  weaken  this  same  creature,  and  make  a coward  of  him? 

Classics.  Vol.  31—17 


296 


PLATO 


Very  true. 

And  is  not  a man  reproached  for  flattery  and  meanness  who 
subordinates  the  spirited  animal  to  the  unruly  monster,  and, 
for  the  sake  of  money,  of  which  he  can  never  have  enough, 
habituates  him  in  the  days  of  his  youth  to  be  trampled  in  the 
mire,  and  from  being  a lion  to  become  a monkey? 

True,  he  said. 

And  why  are  mean  employments  and  manual  arts  a re- 
proach? Only  because  they  imply  a natural  weakness  of  the 
higher  principle ; the  individual  is  unable  to  control  the  creat- 
ures within  him,  but  has  to  court  them,  and  his  great  study 
is  how  to  flatter  them. 

Such  appears  to  be  the  reason. 

And  therefore,  being  desirous  of  placing  him  under  a rule 
like  that  of  the  best,  we  say  that  he  ought  to  be  the  servant 
of  the  best,  in  whom  the  Divine  rules;  not,  as  Thrasymachus 
supposed,  to  the  injury  of  the  servant,  but  because  everyone 
had  better  be  ruled  by  divine  wisdom  dwelling  within  him; 
or,  if  this  be  impossible,  then  by  an  external  authority,  in 
order  that  we  may  be  all,  as  far  as  possible,  under  the  same 
government,  friends  and  equals. 

True,  he  said. 

And  this  is  clearly  seen  to  be  the  intention  of  the  law,  which 
is  the  ally  of  the  whole  city ; and  is  seen  also  in  the  authority 
which  we  exercise  over  children,  and  the  refusal  to  let  them 
be  free  until  we  have  established  in  them  a principle  analogous 
to  the  constitution  of  a State,  and  by  cultivation  of  this  higher 
element  have  set  up  in  their  hearts  a guardian  and  ruler  like 
our  own,  and  when  this  is  done  they  may  go  their  ways. 

Yes,  he  said,  the  purpose  of  the  law  is  manifest. 

From  what  point  of  view,  then,  and  on  what  ground  can 
we  say  that  a man  is  profited  by  injustice  or  intemperance  or 
other  baseness,  which  will  make  him  a worse  man,  even 
though  he  acquire  money  or  power  by  his  wickedness? 

From  no  point  of  view  at  all. 

What  shall  he  profit,  if  his  injustice  be  undetected  and  un- 
punished? He  who  is  undetected  only  gets  worse,  whereas 
he  who  is  detected  and  punished  has  the  brutal  part  of  his 
nature  silenced  and  humanized;,^ the  gentler  element  in  him 
is  liberated,  and  his  whole  soul  is  perfected  and  ennobled  by 


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297 


the  acquirement  of  justice  and  temperance  and  wisdom,  more 
than  the  body  ever  is  by  receiving  gifts  of  beauty,  strength, 
and  health,  in  proportion  as  the  soul  is  more  honorable  than 
the  body. 

Certainly,  he  said. 

To  this  nobler  purpose  the  man  of  understanding  will  devote 
the  energies  of  his  life.  And  in  the  first  place,  he  will  honor 
studies  which  impress  these  qualities  on  his  soul,  and  will  dis- 
regard others? 

Clearly,  he  said. 

In  the  next  place,  he  will  regulate  his  bodily  habit  and  train- 
ing, and  so  far  will  he  be  from  yielding  to  brutal  and  irrational 
pleasures,  that  he  will  regard  even  health  as  quite  a secondary 
matter ; his  first  object  will  be  not  that  he  may  be  fair  or  strong 
or  well,  unless  he  is  likely  thereby  to  gain  temperance,  but  he 
will  alvi^ays  desire  so  to  attemper  the  body  as  to  preserve  the 
harmony  of  the  soul? 

Certainly  he  will,  if  he  has  true  music  in  him. 

And  in  the  acquisition  of  wealth  there  is  a principle  of  order 
and  harmony  which  he  will  also  observe ; he  will  not  allow  him- 
self to  be  dazzled  by  the  foolish  applause  of  the  world,  and  heap 
up  riches  to  his  own  infinite  harm  ? 

Certainly  not,  he  said. 

He  will  look  at  the  city  which  is  within  him,  and  take  heed 
that  no  disorder  occur  in  it,  such  as  might  arise  either  from 
superfluity  or  from  want ; and  upon  this  principle  he  will  regu- 
late his  property  and  gain  or  spend  according  to  his  means. 

Very  true. 

And,  for  the  same  reason,  he  will  gladly  accept  and  enjoy 
such  honors  as  he  deems  likely  to  make  him  a better  man ; but 
those,  whether  private  or  public,  which  are  likely  to  disorder 
his  life,  he  will  avoid? 

Then,  if  that  is  his  motive,  he  will  not  be  a statesman. 

By  the  dog  of  Egypt,  he  will ! in  the  city  which  is  his  own 
he  certainly  will,  though  in  the  land  of  his  birth  perhaps  not, 
unless  he  have  a divine  call. 

I understand;  you  mean  that  he  will  be  a ruler  in  the  city 
of  which  we  are  the  founders,  and  which  exists  in  idea  only; 
for  I do  not  believe  that  there  is  such  a one  anywhere  on  earth  ? 

In  heaven,  I replied,  there  is  laid  up  a pattern  of  it,  methinks. 


PLATO 


298 

which  he  who  desires  may  behold,  and  beholding,  may  set  his 
own  house  in  order.^  But  whether  such  a one  exists,  or  ever 
will  exist  in  fact,  is  no  matter ; for  he  will  live  after  the  manner 
of  that  city,  having  nothing  to  do  with  any  other. 

I think  so,  he  said. 


1 Or»  **  take  up  bis  abode  there.** 


BOOK  X 

THE  RECOMPENSE  OF  LIFE 


Socrates,  Glaucon 

OF  the  many  excellences  which  I perceive  in  the  order  of 
our  State,  there  is  none  which  upon  reflection  pleases 
me  better  than  the  rule  about  poetry. 

To  what  do  you  refer? 

To  the  rejection  of  imitative  poetry,  which  certainly  ought 
not  to  be  received ; as  I see  far  more  clearly  now  that  the  parts 
of  the  soul  have  been  distinguished. 

What  do  you  mean  ? 

Speaking  in  confidence,  for  I should  not  like  to  have  my 
words  repeated  to  the  tragedians  and  the  rest  of  the  imitative 
tribe — but  I do  not  mind  saying  to  you,  that  all  poetical  imita- 
tions are  ruinous  to  the  understanding  of  the  hearers,  and  that 
the  knowledge  of  their  true  nature  is  the  only  antidote  to  them. 
Explain  the  purport  of  your  remark. 

Well,  I will  tell  you,  although  I have  always  from  my  earliest 
youth  had  an  awe  and  love  of  Homer,  which  even  now  makes 
the  words  falter  on  my  lips,  for  he  is  the  great  captain  and 
teacher  of  the  whole  of  that  charming  tragic  company;  but  a 
man  is  not  to  be  reverenced  more  than  the  truth,  and  therefore 
I will  speak  out. 

Very  good,  he  said. 

Listen  to  me,  then,  or,  rather,  answer  me. 

Put  your  question. 

Can  you  tell  me  what  imitation  is  ? for  I really  do  not  know. 
A likely  thing,  then,  that  I should  know. 

Why  not?  for  the  duller  eye  may  often  see  a thing  sooner 
than  the  keener. 

Very  true,  he  said;  but  in  your  presence,  even  if  I had  any 

299 


300 


PLATO 


faint'notion,  I could  not  muster  courage  to  utter  it.  Will  you 
inquire  yourself? 

Well,  then,  shall  we  begin  the  inquiry  in  our  usual  manner: 
Whenever  a number  of  individuals  have  a common  name,  we 
assume  them  to  have  also  a corresponding  idea  or  form ; do  you 
understand  me  ? 

I do. 

Let  us  take  any  common  instance ; there  are  beds  and  tables 
in  the  world — plenty  of  them,  are  there  not  ? 

Yes. 

But  there  are  only  two  ideas  or  forms  of  them — one  the  idea 
of  a bed,  the  other  of  a table. 

True. 

And  the  maker  of  either  of  them  makes  a bed  or  he  makes 
a table  for  our  use,  in  accordance  with  the  idea — that  is  our 
way  of  speaking  in  this  and  similar  instances — but  no  artificer 
makes  the  ideas  themselves : how  could  he  ? 

Impossible. 

And  there  is  another  artist — I should  like  to  know  what  you 
would  say  of  him. 

Who  is  he? 

One  who  is  the  maker  of  all  the  works  of  all  other  workmen. 

What  an  extraordinary  man! 

Wait  a little,  and  there  will  be  more  reason  for  your  saying 
so.  For  this  is  he  who  is  able  to  make  not  only  vessels  of  every 
kind,  but  plants  and  animals,  himself  and  all  other  things — 
the  earth  and  heaven,  and  the  things  which  are  in  heaven  or 
under  the  earth ; he  makes  the  gods  also. 

He  must  be  a wizard  and  no  mistake. 

Oh ! you  are  incredulous,  are  you  ? Do  you  mean  that  there 
is  no  such  maker  or  creator,  or  that  in  one  sense  there  might 
be  a maker  of  all  these  things,  but  in  another  not?  Do  you  see 
that  there  is  a way  in  which  you  could  make  them  all  yourself  ? 

What  way? 

An  easy  way  enough;  or  rather,  there  are  many  ways  in 
which  the  feat  might  be  quickly  and  easily  accomplished,  none 
quicker  than  that  of  turning  a mirror  round  and  round — you 
would  soon  enough  make  the  sun  and  the  heavens,  and  the 
earth  and  yourself,  and  other  animals  and  plants,  and  all  the 
other  things  of  which  we  were  just  now  speaking,  in  the  mirror. 


THE  REPUBLIC 


301 


Yes,  he  said;  but  they  would  be  appearances  only. 

Very  good,  I said,  you  are  coming  to  the  point  now.  And 
the  painter,  too,  is,  as  I conceive,  just  such  another — a creator 
of  appearances,  is  he  not  ? 

Of  course. 

But  then  I suppose  you  will  say  that  what  he  creates  is  un- 
true. And  yet  there  is  a sense  in  which  the  painter  also  creates 
a bed? 

Yes,  he  said,  but  not  a real  bed. 

And  what  of  the  maker  of  the  bed  ? were  you  not  saying  that 
he  too  makes,  not  the  idea  which,  according  to  our  view,  is  the 
essence  of  the  bed,  but  only  a particular  bed? 

Yes,  I did. 

Then  if  he  does  not  make  that  which  exists  he  cannot  make 
true  existence,  but  only  some  semblance  of  existence;  and  if 
anyone  were  to  say  that  the  work  of  the  maker  of  the  bed,  or 
of  any  other  workman,  has  real  existence,  he  could  hardly  be 
supposed  to  be  speaking  the  truth. 

At  any  rate,  he  replied,  philosophers  would  say  that  he  was 
not  speaking  the  truth. 

No  wonder,  then,  that  his  work,  too,  is  an  indistinct  expres- 
sion of  truth. 

No  wonder. 

Suppose  now  that  by  the  light  of  the  examples  just  offered 
we  inquire  who  this  imitator  is? 

If  you  please. 

Well,  then,  here  are  three  beds : one  existing  in  nature,  which 
is  made  by  God,  as  I think  that  we  may  say — for  no  one  else 
can  be  the  maker  ? 

No. 

There  is  another  which  is  the  work  of  the  carpenter? 

Yes. 

And  the  work  of  the  painter  is  a third  ? 

Yes. 

Beds,  then,  are  of  three  kinds,  and  there  are  three  artists  who 
superintend  them:  God,  the  maker  of  the  bed,  and  the  painter? 

Yes,  there  are  three  of  them. 

God,  whether  from  choice  or  from  necessity,  made  one  bed 
in  nature  and  one  only;  two  or  more  such  ideal  beds  neither 
ever  have  been  nor  ever  will  be  made  by  God. 


302 


PLATO 


Why  is  that? 

Because  even  if  He  had  made  but  two,  a third  would  still 
appear  behind  them  which  both  of  them  would  have  for  their 
idea,  and  that  would  be  the  ideal  bed  and  not  the  two  others. 

Very  true,  he  said. 

God  knew  this,  and  he  desired  to  be  the  real  maker  of  a real 
bed,  not  a particular  maker  of  a particular  bed,  and  therefore 
he  created  a bed  which  is  essentially  and  by  nature  one  only. 

So  we  believe. 

Shall  we,  then,  speak  of  him  as  the  natural  author  or  maker 
of  the  bed  ? 

Yes,  he  replied;  inasmuch  as  by  the  natural  process  of  crea- 
tion he  is  the  author  of  this  and  of  all  other  things. 

And  what  shall  we  say  of  the  carpenter — is  not  he  also  the 
maker  of  the  bed  ? 

Yes. 

But  would  you  call  the  painter  a creator  and  maker? 

Certainly  not. 

Yet  if  he  is  not  the  maker,  what  is  he  in  relation  to  the  bed? 

I think,  he  said,  that  we  may  fairly  designate  him  as  the 
imitator  of  that  which  the  others  make. 

Good,  I said ; then  you  call  him  who  is  third  in  the  descent 
from  nature  an  imitator  ? 

Certainly,  he  said. 

And  the  tragic  poet  is  an  imitator,  and,  therefore,  like  all 
other  imitators,  he  is  thrice  removed  from  the  king  and  from 
the  truth? 

That  appears  to  be  so. 

Then  about  the  imitator  we  are  agreed.  And  what  about 
the  painter  ? I would  like  to  know  whether  he  may  be  thought 
to  imitate  that  which  originally  exists  in  nature,  or  only  the 
creations  of  artists  ? 

The  latter. 

As  they  are  or  as  they  appear?  you  have  still  to  determine 
this. 

What  do  you  mean  ? 

I mean,  that  you  may  look  at  a bed  from  different  points  of 
view,  obliquely  or  directly  or  from  any  other  point  of  view,  and 
the  bed  will  appear  different,  but  there  is  no  difference  in  reality. 
And  the  same  of  all  things. 


THE  REPUBLIC 


303 


Yes,  he  said,  the  difference  is  only  apparent. 

Now  let  me  ask  you  another  question : Which  is  the  art  of 
painting  designed  to  be — an  imitation  of  things  as  they  are,  or 
as  they  appear — of  appearance  or  of  reality  ? 

Of  appearance. 

Then  the  imitator,  I said,  is  a long  way  off  the  truth,  and 
can  do  all  things  because  he  lightly  touches  on  a small  part  of 
them,  and  that  part  an  image.  For  example:  A painter  will 
paint  a cobbler,  carpenter,  or  any  other  artist,  though  he  knows 
nothing  of  their  arts ; and,  if  he  is  a good  artist,  he  may  deceive 
children  or  simple  persons,  when  he  shows  them  his  picture  of 
a carpenter  from  a distance,  and  they  will  fancy  that  they  are 
looking  at  a real  carpenter. 

Certainly. 

And  whenever  anyone  informs  us  that  he  has  found  a man 
who  knows  all  the  arts,  and  all  things  else  that  anybody  knows, 
and  every  single  thing  with  a higher  degree  of  accuracy  than 
any  other  man — whoever  tells  us  this,  I think  that  we  can  only 
imagine  him  to  be  a simple  creature  who  is  likely  to  have  been 
deceived  by  some  wizard  or  actor  whom  he  met,  and  whom  he 
thought  all-knowing,  because  he  himself  was  unable  to  analyze 
the  nature  of  knowledge  and  ignorance  and  imitation. 

Most  true. 

And  so,  when  we  hear  persons  saying  that  the  tragedians, 
and  Homer,  who  is  at  their  head,  know  all  the  arts  and  all 
things  human,  virtue  as  well  as  vice,  and  divine  things  too,  for 
that  the  good  poet  cannot  compose  well  unless  he  knows  his 
subject,  and  that  he  who  has  not  this  knowledge  can  never  be 
a poet,  we  ought  to  consider  whether  here  also  there  may  not 
be  atsimilar  illusion.  Perhaps  they  may  have  come  across  imi- 
tators and  been  deceived  by  them ; they  may  not  have  remem- 
bered when  they  saw  their  works  that  these  were  but  imitations 
thrice  removed  from  the  truth,  and  could  easily  be  made  with- 
out any  knowledge  of  the  truth,  because  they  are  appearances 
only  and  not  realities  ? Or,  after  all,  they  may  be  in  the  right, 
and  poets  do  really  know  the  things  about  which  they  seem  to 
the  many  to  speak  so  well  ? 

The  question,  he  said,  should  by  all  means  be  considered. 

Now  do  you  suppose  that  if  a person  were  able  to  make  the 
original  as  well  as  the  image,  he  would  seriously  devote  himself 


304 


PLATO 


to  the  image-making  branch?  Would  he  allow  imitation  to  be 
the  ruling  principle  of  his  life,  as  if  he  had  nothing  higher  in 
him? 

I should  say  not. 

The  real  artist,  who  knew  what  he  was  imitating^  would  be 
interested  in  realities  and  not  irf  imitations ; and  would  desire 
to  leave  as  memorials  of  himself  works  many  and  fair;  and, 
instead  of  being  the  author  of  encomiums,  he  would  prefer  to 
be  the  theme  of  them. 

Yes,  he  said,  that  would  be  to  him  a source  of  much  greater 
honor  and  profit. 

Then,  I said,  we  must  put  a question  to  Homer;  not  about 
medicine,  or  any  of  the  arts  to  which  his  poems  only  incidentally 
refer : we  are  not  going  to  ask  him,  or  any  other  poet,  whether 
he  has  cured  patients  like  Asclepius,  or  left  behind  him  a school 
of  medicine  such  as  the  Asclepiads  were^  or  whether  he  only 
talks  about  medicine  and  other  arts  at  second-hand;  but  we 
have  a right  to  know  respecting  military  tactics,  politics,  edu- 
cation, which  are  the  chief est  and  noblest  subjects  of  his  poems, 
and  we  may  fairly  ask  him  about  them.  ‘‘  Friend  Homer,’’ 
then  we  say  to  him,  “ if  you  are  only  in  the  second  remove  from 
truth  in  what  you  say  of  virtue,  and  not  in  the  third — not  an 
image  maker  or  imitator — and  if  you  are  able  to  discern  what 
pursuits  make  men  better  or  worse  in  private  or  public  life,  tell 
us  what  State  was  ever  better  governed  by  your  help?  The 
good  order  of  Lacedaemon  is  due  to  Lycurgus,  and  many  other 
cities,  great  and  small,  have  been  similarly  benefited  by  others ; 
but  who  says  that  you  have  been  a good  legislator  to  them  and 
have  done  them  any  good?  Italy  and  Sicily  boast  of  Charon- 
das,  and  there  is  Solon  who  is  renowned  among  us;  but  what 
city  has  anything  to  say  about  you?  ” Is  there  any  city  which 
he  might  name  ? 

I think  not,  said  Glaucon ; not  even  the  Homerids  themselves 
pretend  that  he  was  a legislator. 

Well,  but  is  there  any  war  on  record  which  was  carried  on 
successfully  by  him,  or  aided  by  his  counsels,  when  he  was 
alive  ? 

There  is  not. 

Or  is  there  any  invention  ^ of  his,  applicable  to  the  arts  or  to 

* Omitting  eis. 


THE  REPUBLIC 


305 


human  life,  such  as  Thales  the  Milesian  or  Anacharsis  the 
Scythian,  and  other  ingenious  men  have  conceived,  which  is 
attributed  to  him  ? 

There  is  absolutely  nothing  of  the  kind. 

But,  if  Homer  never  did  any  public  service,  was  he  privately 
a guide  or  teacher  of  any  ? Had  he  in  his  lifetime  friends  who 
loved  to  associate  with  him,  and  who  handed  down  to  posterity 
a Homeric  way  of  life,  such  as  was  established  by  Pythagoras, 
who  was  so  greatly  beloved  for  his  wisdom,  and  whose  fol- 
lowers are  to  this  day  quite  celebrated  for  the  order  which  was 
named  after  him  ? 

Nothing  of  the  kind  is  recorded  of  him.  For,  surely,  Soc- 
rates, Creophylus,  the  companion  of  Homer,  that  child  of 
flesh,  whose  name  always  makes  us  laugh,  might  be  more  justly 
ridiculed  for  his  stupidity,  if,  as  is  said,  Homer  was  greatly 
neglected  by  him  and  others  in  his  own  day  when  he  was  alive  ? 

Yes,  I replied,  that  is  the  tradition.  But  can  you  imagine, 
Glaucon,  that  if  Homer  had  really  been  able  to  educate  and  im- 
prove mankind — if  he  had  possessed  knowledge,  and  not  been  a 
mere  imitator — can  you  imagine,  I say,  that  he  would  not  have 
had  many  followers,  and  been  honored  and  loved  by  them? 
Protagoras  of  Abdera  and  Prodicus  of  Ceos  and  a host  of 
others  have  only  to  whisper  to  their  contemporaries : You 
will  never  be  able  to  manage  either  your  own  house  or  your 
own  State  until  you  appoint  us  to  be  your  ministers  of  educa- 
tion ’’ — and  this  ingenious  device  of  theirs  has  such  an  effect 
lin  making  men  love  them  that  their  companions  all  but  carry 
them  about  on  their  shoulders.  And  is  it  conceivable  that  the 
contemporaries  of  Homer,  or  again  of  Hesiod,  would  have  al- 
lowed either  of  them  to  go  about  as  rhapsodists,  if  they  had 
really  been  able  to  make  mankind  virtuous?  Would  they  not 
have  been  as  unwilling  to  part  with  them  as  with  gold,  and  have 
compelled  them  to  stay  at  home  with  them  ? Or,  if  the  master 
would  not  stay,  then  the  disciples  would  have  followed  him 
about  everywhere,  until  they  had  got  education  enough? 

Yes,  Socrates,  that,  I think,  is  quite  true. 

Then  must  we  not  infer  that  all  these  poetical  individuals, 
beginning  with  Homer,  are  only  imitators;  they  copy  images 
of  virtue  and  the  like,  but  the  truth  they  never  reach?  The 
poet  is  like  a painter  who,  as  we  have  already  observed,  will 


3o6 


PLATO 


make  a likeness  of  a cobbler  though  he  understands  nothing  of 
cobbling ; and  his  picture  is  good  enough  for  those  who  know 
no  more  than  he  does,  and  judge  only  by  colors  and  figures. 

Quite  so. 

In  like  manner  the  poet  with  his  words  and  phrases  ^ may 
be  said  to  lay  on  the  colors  of  the  several  arts,  himself  under- 
standing their  nature  only  enough  to  imitate  them;  and  other 
people,  who  are  as  ignorant  as  he  is,  and  judge  only  from  his 
words,  imagine  that  if  he  speaks  of  cobbling,  or  of  military  tac- 
tics, or  of  anything  else,  in  metre  and  harmony  and  rhythm,  he 
speaks  very  well — such  is  the  sweet  influence  which  melody 
and  rhythm  by  nature  have.  And  I think  that  you  must  have 
observed  again  and  again  what  a poor  appearance  the  tales  of 
poets  make  when  stripped  of  the  colors  which  music  puts  upon 
them,  and  recited  in  simple  prose. 

Yes,  he  said. 

They  are  like  faces  which  were  never  really  beautiful,  but 
only  blooming;  and  now  the  bloom  of  youth  has  passed  away 
from  them? 

Exactly. 

Here  is  another  point:  The  imitator  or  maker  of  the  image 
knows  nothing  of  true  existence ; he  knows  appearances  only. 
Am  I not  right  ? 

Yes. 

Then  let  us  have  a clear  understanding,  and  not  be  satisfied 
with  half  an  explanation. 

Proceed. 

Of  the  painter  we  say  that  he  will  paint  reins,  and  he  will 
paint  a bit  ? 

Yes. 

And  the  worker  in  leather  and  brass  will  make  them  ? 

Certainly. 

But  does  the  painter  know  the  right  form  of  the  bit  and  reins  ? 
Nay,  hardly  even  the  workers  in  brass  ^d  leather  who  make 
them ; only  the  horseman  who  knows  how  to  use  them — he 
knows  their  right  form. 

Most  true. 

And  may  we  not  say  the  same  of  all  things? 

What? 


1 Or,  “ with  his  nouns  and  verbs. 


THE  REPUBLIC 


307 

That  there  are  three  arts  which  are  concerned  with  all  things : 
one  which  uses,  another  which  makes,  a third  which  imitates 
them? 

Yes. 

And  the  excellence  or  beauty  or  truth  of  every  structure, 
animate  or  inanimate,  and  of  every  action  of  man,  is  relative 
to  the  use  for  which  nature  or  the  artist  has  intended  them. 

True. 

Then  the  user  of  them  must  have  the  greatest  experience  of 
them,  and  he  must  indicate  to  the  maker  the  good  or  bad  quali- 
ties which  develop  themselves  in  use;  for  example,  the  flute- 
player  will  tell  the  flute-maker  which  of  his  flutes  is  satisfactory 
to  the  performer ; he  will  tell  him  how  he  ought  to  make  them, 
and  the  other  will  attend  to  his  instructions  ? 

Of  course. 

The  one  knows  and  therefore  speaks  with  authority  about 
the  goodness  and  badness  of  flutes,  while  the  other,  confiding 
in  him,  will  do  what  he  is  told  by  him  ? 

True. 

The  instrument  is  the  same,  but  about  the  excellence  or  bad- 
ness of  it  the  maker  will  only  attain  to  a correct  belief ; and  this 
he  will  gain  from  him  who  knows,  by  talking  to  him  and  being 
compelled  to  hear  what  he  has  to  say,  whereas  the  user  will 
have  knowledge  ? 

True. 

But  will  the  imitator  have  either?  Will  he  know  from  use 
whether  or  no  his  drawing  is  correct  or  beautiful?  or  will  he 
have  right  opinion  from  being  compelled  to  associate  with  an- 
other who  knows  and  gives  him  instructions  about  what  he 
should  draw? 

Neither. 

Then  he  will  no  more  have  true  opinion  than  he  will  have 
knowledge  about  the  goodness  or  badness  of  his  imitations? 

I suppose  not. 

The  imitative  artist  will  be  in  a brilliant  state  of  intelligence 
about  his  own  creations  ? 

Nay,  very  much  the  reverse. 

And  still  he  will  go  on  imitating  without  knowing  what 
makes  a thing  good  or  bad,  and  may  be  expected  therefore  to 
imitate  only  that  which  appears  to  be  good  to  the  ignorant 
multitude  ? 


3o8 


PLATO 


Just  so. 

Thus  far,  then,  we  are  pretty  well  agreed  that  the  imitator 
has  no  knowledge  worth  mentioning  of  what  he  imitates.  Im- 
itation is  only  a kind  of  play  or  sport,  and  the  tragic  poets, 
whether  they  write  in  iambic  or  in  heroic  verse,  are  imitators 
in  the  highest  degree  ? 

Very  true. 

And  now  tell  me,  I conjure  you,  has  not  imitation  been  shown 
by  us  to  be  concerned  with  that  which  is  thrice  removed  from 
the  truth? 

Certainly. 

And  what  is  the  faculty  in  man  to  which  imitation  is  ad- 
dressed ? 

What  do  you  mean? 

I will  explain : The  body  which  is  large  when  seen  near,  ap- 
pears small  when  seen  at  a distance? 

True. 

And  the  same  objects  appear  straight  when  looked  at  out 
of  the  water,  and  crooked  when  in  the  water ; and  the  concave 
becomes  convex,  owing  to  the  illusion  about  colors  to  which 
the  sight  is  liable.  Thus  every  sort  of  confusion  is  revealed 
within  us;  and  this  is  that  weakness  of  the  human  mind  on 
which  the  art  of  conjuring  and  of  deceiving  by  light  and 
shadow  and  other  ingenious  devices  imposes,  having  an  effect 
upon  us  like  magic. 

True. 

And  the  arts  of  measuring  and  numbering  and  weighing 
come  to  the  rescue  of  the  human  understanding — ^there  is  the 
beauty  of  them — and  the  apparent  greater  or  less,  or  more  or 
heavier,  no  longer  have  the  mastery  over  us,  but  give  way  be- 
fore calculation  and  measure  and  weight? 

Most  true. 

And  this,  surely,  must  be  the  work  of  the  calculating  and 
rational  principle  in  the  soul  ? 

To  be  sure. 

And  when  this  principle  measures  and  certifies  that  some 
things  are  equal,  or  that  some  are  greater  or  less  than  others, 
there  occurs  an  apparent  contradiction  ? 

True. 

But  were  we  not  saying  that  such  a contradiction  is  impos- 


THE  REPUBLIC 


309 

sible — the  same  faculty  cannot  have  contrary  opinions  at  the 
same  time  about  the  same  thing  ? 

Very  true. 

Then  that  part  of  the  soul  which  has  an  opinion  contrary  to 
measure  is  not  the  same  with  that  which  has  an  opinion  in  ac- 
cordance with  measure  ? 

True. 

And  the  better  part  of  the  soul  is  likely  to  be  that  which 
trusts  to  measure  and  calculation? 

Certainly. 

And  that  which  is  opposed  to  them  is  one  of  the  inferior 
principles  of  the  soul? 

No  doubt. 

This  was  the  conclusion  at  which  I was  seeking  to  arrive 
when  I said  that  painting  or  drawing,  and  imitation  in  general, 
when  doing  their  own  proper  work,  are  far  removed  from  truth, 
and  the  companions  and  friends  and  associates  of  a principle 
within  us  which  is  equally  removed  from  reason,  and  that  they 
have  no  true  or  healthy  aim. 

Exactly. 

The  imitative  art  is  an  inferior  who  marries  an  inferior,  and 
has  inferior  offspring. 

Very  true. 

And  is  this  confined  to  the  sight  only,  or  does  it  extend  to 
the  hearing  also,  relating  in  fact  to  what  we  term  poetry  ? 

Probably  the  same  would  be  true  of  poetry. 

Do  not  rely,  I said,  on  a probability  derived  from  the  analogy 
of  painting;  but  let  us  examine  further  and  see  whether  the 
faculty  with  which  poetical  imitation  is  concerned  is  good  or 
bad. 

By  all  means. 

We  may  state  the  question  thus : Imitation  imitates  the  ac- 
tions of  men,  whether  voluntary  or  involuntary,  on  which,  as 
they  imagine,  a good  or  bad  result  has  ensued,  and  they  rejoice 
or  sorrow  accordingly.  Is  there  anything  more? 

No,  there  is  nothing  else. 

But  in  all  this  variety  of  circumstances  is  the  man  at  unity 
with  himself — or,  rather,  as  in  the  instance  of  sight  there  were 
confusion  and  opposition  in  his  opinions  about  the  same  things, 
so  here  also  are  there  not  strife  and  inconsistency  in  his  life? 


310 


PLATO 


though  I need  hardly  raise  the  question  again,  for  I remember 
that  all  this  has  been  already  admitted ; and  the  soul  has  been 
acknowledged  by  us  to  be  full  of  these  and  ten  thousand  similar 
oppositions  occurring  at  the  same  moment? 

And  we  were  right,  he  said. 

Yes,  I said,  thus  far  we  were  right;  but  there  was  an  omis- 
sion which  must  now  be  supplied. 

What  was  the  omission? 

Were  we  not  saying  that  a good  man,  who  has  the  misfortune 
to  lose  his  son  or  anything  else  which  is  most  dear  to  him, 
will  bear  the  loss  with  more  equanimity  than  another  ? 

Yes. 

But  will  he  have  no  sorrow,  or  shall  we  say  that  although 
he  cannot  help  sorrowing,  he  will  moderate  his  sorrow? 

The  latter,  he  said,  is  the  truer  statement. 

Tell  me:  will  he  be  more  likely  to  struggle  and  hold  out 
against  his  sorrow  when  he  is  seen  by  his  equals,  or  when  he  is 
alone  ? 

It  will  make  a great  difference  whether  he  is  seen  or  not. 

When  he  is  by  himself  he  will  not  mind  saying  or  doing  many 
things  which  he  would  be  ashamed  of  anyone  hearing  or  seeing 
him  do? 

True. 

There  is  a principle  of  law  and  reason  in  him  which  bids  him 
resist,  as  well  as  a feeling  of  his  misfortune  which  is  forcing 
him  to  indulge  his  sorrow  ? 

True. 

But  when  a man  is  drawn  in  two  opposite  directions,  to  and 
from  the  same  object,  this,  as  we  affirm,  necessarily  implies  two 
distinct  principles  in  him  ? 

Certainly. 

One  of  them  is  ready  to  follow  the  guidance  of  the  law  ? 

How  do  you  mean  ? 

The  law  would  say  that  to  be  patient  under  suffering  is  best, 
and  that  we  should  not  give  way  to  impatience,  as  there  is  no 
knowing  whether  such  things  are  good  or  evil ; and  nothing  is 
gained  by  impatience ; also,  because  no  human  thing  is  of  seri- 
ous importance,  and  grief  stands  in  the  way  of  that  which  at 
the  moment  is  most  required. 

What  is  most  required  ? he  asked. 


THE  REPUBLIC 


311 


That  we  should  take  counsel  about  what  has  happened,  and 
when  the  dice  have  been  thrown  order  our  affairs  in  the  way 
which  reason  deems  best;  not,  like  children  who  have  had  a 
fall,  keeping  hold  of  the  part  struck  and  wasting  time  in  setting 
up  a howl,  but  always  accustoming  the  soul  forthwith  to  apply 
a remedy,  raising  up  that  which  is  sickly  and  fallen,  banishing 
the  cry  of  sorrow  by  the  healing  art. 

Yes,  he  said,  that  is  the  true  way  of  meeting  the  attacks  of 
fortune. 

Yes;  I said;  and  the  higher  principle  is  ready  to  follow  this 
suggestion  of  reason?  • 

Clearly.  . 

And  the  other  principle,  which  inclines  us  to  recollection  of 
our  troubles  and  to  lamentation,  and  can  never  have  enough  of 
them,  we  may  call  irrational,  useless^  and  cowardly? 

Indeed,  we  may. 

And  does  not  the  latter — I mean  the  rebellious  principle — 
furnish  a great  variety  of  materials  for  imitation?  Whereas 
the  wise  and  calm  temperament,  being  always  nearly  equable, 
is  not  easy  to  imitate  or  to  appreciate  when  imitated,  especially 
at  a public  festival  when  a promiscuous  crowd  is  assembled  in  a 
theatre.  For  the  feeling  represented  is  one  to  which  they  are 
strangers. 

Certainly. 

Then  the  imitative  poet  who  aims  at  being  popular  is  not  by 
nature  made,  nor  is  his  art  intended,  to  please  or  to  affect  the 
rational  principle  in  the  soul ; but  he  will  prefer  the  passionate 
and  fitful  temper,  which  is  easily  imitated? 

Clearly. 

And  now  we  may  fairly  take  him  and  place  him  by  the  side 
of  the  painter,  for  he  is  like  him  in  two  ways : first,  inasmuch 
as  his  creations  have  an  inferior  degree  of  truth — in  this,  I say, 
he  is  like  him ; and  he  is  also  like  him  in  being  concerned  with 
an  inferior  part  of  the  soul ; and  therefore  we  shall  be  right  in 
refusing  to  admit  him  into  a well-ordered  State,  because  he 
awakens  and  nourishes  and  strengthens  the  feelings  and  im- 
pairs the  reason.  As  in  a city  when  the  evil  are  permitted  to 
have  authority  and  the  good  are  put  out  of  the  way,  so  in  the 
soul  of  man,  as  we  maintain,  the  imitative  poet  implants  an  evil 
constitution,  for  he  indulges  the  irrational  nature  which  has  no 


312 


PLATO 


discernment  of  greater  and  less,  but  thinks  the  same  thing  at 
one  time  great  and  at  another  small — he  is  a manufacturer  of 
images  and  is  very  far  removed  from  the  truth.^ 

Exactly. 

But  we  have  not  yet  brought  forward  the  heaviest  count  in 
our  accusation:  the  power  which  poetry  has  of  harming  even 
the  good  (and  there  are  very  few  who  are  not  harmed),  is 
surely  an  awful  thing? 

Yes,  certainly,  if  the  effect  is  what  you  say.  . 

Hear  and  judge:  The  best  of  us,  as  I conceive,  when  we 
listen  to  a passage  of  Homer  or  one  of  the  tragedians,  in  which 
he  represents  some  pitiful  hero  who  is  drawling  out  his  sorrows 
in  a long  oration,  or  weeping,  and  smiting  his  breast — ^the  best 
of  us,  you  know,  delight  in  giving  way  to  syippathy,  and  are  in 
raptures  at  the  excellence  of  the  poet  who  stirs  our  feelings 
most. 

Yes,  of  course,  I know. 

But  when  any  sorrow  of  our  own  happens  to  us,  then  you 
may  observe  that  we  pride  ourselves  on  the  opposite  quality — 
we  would  fain  be  quiet  and  patient ; this  is  the  manly  part,  and 
the  other  which  delighted  us  in  the  recitation  is  now  deemed 
to  be  the  part  of  a woman. 

Very  true,  he  said. 

Now  can  we  be  right  in  praising  and  admiring  another  who 
is  doing  that  which  any  one  of  us  would  abominate  and  be 
ashamed  of  in  his  own  person? 

No,  he  said,  that  is  certainly  not  reasonable. 

Nay,  I said,  quite  reasonable  from  one  point  of  view. 

What  point  of  view? 

If  you  consider,  I said,  that  when  in  misfortune  we  feel  a 
natural  hunger  and  desire  to  relieve  our  sorrow  by  weeping 
and  lamentation,  and  that  this  feeling  which  is  kept  under  con- 
trol in  our  own  calamities  is  satisfied  and  delighted  by  the 
poets;  the  better  nature  in  each  of  us,  not  having  been  suffi- 
ciently trained  by  reason  or  habit,  allows  the  sympathetic  ele- 
ment to  break  loose  because  the  sorrow  is  another’s;  and  the 
spectator  fancies  that  there  can  be  no  disgrace  to  himself  in 
praising  and  pitying  anyone  who  comes  telling  him  what  a good 
man  he  is,  and  making  a fuss  about  his  troubles;  he  thinks 

* Reading  cidwAoiroiouk^  • • • 


THE  REPUBLIC 


313 


that  the  pleasure  is  a gain,  and  why  should  he  be  supercilious 
;.iid  lose  this  and  the  poem  too  ? Few  persons  ever  reflect,  as  I 
should  imagine,  that  from  the  evil  of  other  men  something  of 
evil  is  communicated  to  themselves.  And  so  the  feeling  of  sor- 
row which  has  gathered  strength  at  the  sight  of  the  misfortunes 
of  others  is  with  difficulty  repressed  in  our  own. 

How  very  true ! 

And  does  not  the  same  hold  also  of  the  ridiculous?  There 
are  jests  which  you  would  be  ashamed  to  make  yourself,  and 
yet  on  the  comic  stage,  or  indeed  in  private,  when  you  hear 
them,  you  are  greatly  amused  by  them,  and  are  not  at  all  dis- 
gusted at  their  unseemliness ; the  case  of  pity  is  repeated ; there 
is  a principle  in  human  nature  which  is  disposed  to  raise  a 
laugh,  and  this  which  you  once  restrained  by  reason,  because 
you  were  afraid  of  being  thought  a buffoon,  is  now  let  out 
again ; and  having  stimulated  the  risible  faculty  at  the  theatre, 
you  are  betrayed  unconsciously  to  yourself  into  playing  the 
comic  poet  at  home. 

Quite  true,  he  said. 

And  the  same  may  be  said  of  lust  and  anger  and  all  the  other 
affections,  of  desire,  and  pain,  and  pleasure,  which  are  held  to 
be  inseparable  from  every  action — in  all  of  them  poetry  feeds 
and  waters  the  passions  instead  of  drying  them  up;  she  lets 
them  rule,  although  they  ought  to  be  controlled,  if  mankind  are 
ever  to  increase  in  happiness  and  virtue. 

I cannot  deny  it. 

Therefore,  Glaucon,  I said,  whenever  you  meet  with  any  of 
the  eulogists  of  Homer  declaring  that  he  has  been  the  educator 
of  Hellas,  and  that  he  is  profitable  for  education  and  for  the 
ordering  of  human  things,  and  that  you  should  take  him  up 
again  and  again  and  get  to  know  him  and  regulate  your  whole 
life  according  to  him,  we  may  love  and  honor  those  who  say 
these  things — they  are  excellent  people,  as  far  as  their  lights 
extend ; and  we  are  ready  to  acknowledge  that  Homer  is  the 
greatest  of  poets  and  first  of  tragedy  writers ; but  we  must  re- 
main firm  in  our  conviction  that  h3rmns  to  the  gods  and  praises 
of  famous  men  are  the  only  poetry  which  ought  to  be  at^itted 
into  our  State.  For  if  you  go  beyond  this  and  allow  the 
honeyed  muse  to  enter,  either  in  epic  or  lyric  verse,  not  law  and 
the  reason  of  mankind,  which  by  common  consent  have  ever 


314 


PLATO 


been  deemed  best,  but  pleasure  and  pain  will  be  the  rulers  in 
our  State. 

That  is  most  true,  he  said. 

And  now  since  we  have  reverted  to  the  subject  of  poetry,  let 
this  our  defence  serve  to  show  the  reasonableness  of  our  former 
judgment  in  sending  away  out  of  our  State  an  art  having  the 
tendencies  which  we  have  described ; for  reason  constrained  us. 
But  that  she  may  not  impute  to  us  any  harshness  or  want  of 
politeness,  let  us  tell  her  that  there  is  an  ancient  quarrel  between 
philosophy  and  poetry;  of  which  there  are  many  proofs,  such 
as  the  saying  of  the  yelping  hound  howling  at  her  lord,’’  or 
of  one  mighty  in  the  vain  talk  of  fools,”  and  “ the  mob  of 
sages  circumventing  Zeus,”  and  the  ‘‘  subtle  thinkers  who  are 
beggars  after  all  ” ; and  there  are  innumerable  other  signs  of 
ancient  enmity  between  them.  Notwithstanding  this,  let  us 
assure  our  sweet  friend  and  the  sister  art  of  imitation,  that  if 
she  will  only  prove  her  title  to  exist  in  a well-ordered  State  we 
shall  be  delighted  to  receive  her — ^we  are  very  conscious  of  her 
charms ; but  we  may  not  on  that  account  betray  the  truth.  I 
dare  say,  Glaucon,  that  you  are  as  much  charmed  by  her  as  I 
am,  especially  when  she  appears  in  Homer? 

Yes,  indeed,  I am  greatly  charmed. 

Shall  I propose,  then,  that  she  be  allowed  to  return  from 
exile,  but  upon  this  condition  only — that  she  make  a defence 
of  herself  in  lyrical  or  some  other  metre? 

Certainly. 

And  we  may  further  grant  to  those  of  her  defenders  who  are 
lovers  of  poetry  and  yet  not  poets  the  permission  to  speak  in 
prose  on  her  behalf : let  them  show  not  only  that  she  is  pleasant, 
but  also  useful  to  States  and  to  human  life,  and  we  will  listen 
in  a kindly  spirit ; for  if  this  can  be  proved  we  shall  surely  be 
the  gainers — I mean,  if  there  is  a use  in  poetry  as  well  as  a 
delight  ? 

Certainly,  he  said,  we  shall  be  the  gainers. 

If  her  defence  fails,  then,  my  dear  friend,  like  other  persons 
who  are  enamoured  of  something,  but  put  a restraint  upon 
themselves  when  they  think  their  desires  are  opposed  to  their 
interests,  so,  too,  must  we  after  the  manner  of  lovers  give  her 
up,  though  not  without  a struggle.  We,  too,  are  inspired  by 
that  love  of  poetry  which  the  education  of  noble  States  has  im- 


THE  REPUBLIC 


315 


planted  in  us,  and  therefore  we  would  have  her  appear  at  her 
best  and  truest ; but  so  long  as  she  is  unable  to  make  good  her 
defence,  this  argument  of  ours  shall  be  a charm  to  us,  which 
we  will  repeat  to  ourselves  while  we  listen  to  her  strains ; that 
we  may  not  fall  away  into  the  childish  love  of  her  which  capti- 
vates the  many.  At  all  events  we  are  well  aware  ^ that  poetry 
being  such  as  we  have  described  is  not  to  be  regarded  seriously 
as  attaining  to  the  truth ; and  he  who  listens  to  her,  fearing  for 
the  safety  of  the  city  which  is  within  him,  should  be  on  his 
guard  against  her  seductions  and  make  our  words  his  law. 

Yes,  he  said,  I quite  agree  with  you. 

Yes,  I said,  my  dear  Glaucon,  for  great  is  the  issue  at  stake, 
greater  than  appears,  whether  a man  is  to  be  good  or  bad.  And 
what  will  anyone  be  profited  if  under  the  influence  of  honor  or 
money  or  power,  aye,  or  under  the  excitement  of  poetry,  he 
neglect  justice  and  virtue  ? 

Yes,  he  said;  I have  been  convinced  by  the  argument,  as  I 
believe  that  anyone  else  would  have  been. 

And  yet  no  mention  has  been  made  of  the  greatest  prizes  and 
rewards  which  await  virtue. 

What,  are  there  any  greater  still?  If  there  are,  they  must 
be  of  an  inconceivable  greatness. 

Why,  I said,  what  was  ever  great  in  a short  time?  The 
whole  period  of  threescore  years  and  ten  is  surely  but  a little 
thing  in  comparison  with  eternity  ? 

Say  rather  ‘nothing’  he  replied. 

And  should  an  immortal  being  seriously  think  of  this  little 
space  rather  than  of  the  whole  ? 

Of  the  whole,  certainly.  But  why  do  you  ask? 

Are  you  not  aware,  I said,  that  the  soul  of  man  is  immortal 
and  imperishable? 

He  looked  at  me  in  astonishment,  and  said : No,  by  heaven : 
And  are  you  really  prepared  to  maintain  this? 

Yes,  I said,  I ought  to  be,  and  you  too — ^there  is  no  difficulty 
in  proving  it. 

I see  a great  difficulty;  but  I should  like  to  hear  you  state 
this  argument  of  which  you  make  so  light. 

Listen,  then. 

1 Or,  if  we  accept  Madvig’s  ingenious  but  unnecessary  emendation,  ^ao/Ac^a,  At  all 
events  we  will  sing,  that,**  etc. 


3i6 


PLATO 


I am  attending. 

There  is  a thing  which  you  call  good  and  another  which  you 
call  evil? 

Yes,  he  replied. 

Would  you  agree  with  me  in  thinking  that  the  corrupting 
and  destroying  element  is  the  evil,  and  the  saving  and  improv- 
ing element  the  good  ? 

Yes. 

And  you  admit  that  everything  has  a good  and  also  an  evil ; 
as  ophthalmia  is  the  evil  of  the  eyes  and  disease  of  the  whole 
body ; as  mildew  is  of  corn,  and  rot  of  timber,  or  rust  of  copper 
and  iron : in  everything,  or  in  almost  everything,  there  is  an  in- 
herent evil  and  disease? 

Yes,  he  said. 

And  anything  which  is  infected  by  any  of  these  evils  is  made 
evil,  and  at  last  wholly  dissolves  and  dies? 

True. 

The  vice  and  evil  which  are  inherent  in  each  are  the  destruc- 
tion of  each ; and  if  these  do  not  destroy  them  there  is  nothing 
else  that  will;  for  good  certainly  will  not  destroy  them,  nor, 
again,  that  which  is  neither  good  nor  evil. 

Certainly  not. 

If,  then,  we  find  any  nature  which  having  this  inherent  cor- 
ruption cannot  be  dissolved  or  destroyed,  we  may  be  certain 
that  of  such  a nature  there  is  no  destruction  ? 

That  may  be  assumed. 

Well,  I said,  and  is  there  no  evil  which  corrupts  the  soul  ? 

Yes,  he  said,  there  are  all  the  evils  which  we  were  just  now 
passing  in  review : unrighteousness,  intemperance,  cowardice, 
ignorance. 

But  does  any  of  these  dissolve  or  destroy  her? — and  here  do 
not  let  us  fall  into  the  error  of  supposing  that  the  unjust  and 
foolish  man,  when  he  is  detected,  perishes  through  his  own  in- 
justice, which  is  an  evil  of  the  soul.  Take  the  analogy  of  the 
body  : The  evil  of  the  body  is  a disease  which  wastes  and  re- 
duces and  annihilates  the  body;  and  all  the  things  of  which 
we  were  just  now  speaking  come  to  annihilation  through  their 
own  corruption  attaching  to  them  and  inhering  in  them  and 
so  destroying  them.  Is  not  this  true? 

Yes. 


THE  REPUBLIC 


317 

Consider  the  soul  in  like  manner.  Does  the  injustice  or 
other  evil  which  exists  in  the  soul  waste  and  consume  her? 
Do  they  by  attaching  to  the  soul  and  inhering  in  her  at  last 
bring  her  to  death,  and  so  separate  her  from  the  body? 

Certainly  not. 

And  yet,  I said,  it  is  unreasonable  to  suppose  that  anything 
can  perish  from  without  through  affection  of  external  evil 
which  could  not  be  destroyed  from  within  by  a corruption  of 
its  own? 

It  is,  he  replied. 

Consider,  I said,  Glaucon,  that  even  the  badness  of  food, 
whether  staleness,  decomposition,  or  any  other  bad  quality, 
when  confined  to  the  actual  food,  is  not  supposed  to  destroy 
the  body ; although,  if  the  badness  of  food  communicates  cor- 
ruption to  the  body,  then  we  should  say  that  the  body  has  been 
destroyed  by  a corruption  of  itself,  which  is  disease,  brought 
on  by  this ; but  that  the  body,  being  one  thing,  can  be  destroyed 
by  the  badness  of  the  food,  which  is  another,  and  which  does 
not  engender  any  natural  infection — this  we  shall  absolutely 
deny? 

Very  true. 

And,  on  the  same  principle,  unless  some  bodily  evil  can  pro- 
duce an  evil  of  the  soul,  we  must  not  suppose  that  the  soul, 
which  is  one  thing,  can  be  dissolved  by  any  merely  external 
evil  which  belongs  to  another  ? 

Yes,  he  said,  there  is  reason  in  that. 

Either,  then,  let  us  refute  this  conclusion,  or,  while  it  remains 
unrefuted,  let  us  never  say  that  fever,  or  any  other  disease,  or 
the  knife  put  to  the  throat,  or  even  the  cutting  up  of  the  whole 
body  into  the  minutest  pieces,  can  destroy  the  soul,  until  she 
herself  is  proved  to  become  more  unholy  or  unrighteous  in  con- 
sequence of  these  things  being  done  to  the  body ; but  that  the 
soul,  or  anything  else  if  not  destroyed  by  an  internal  evil,  can 
be  destroyed  by  an  external  one,  is  not  to  be  affirmed  by  any 
man. 

And  surely,  he  replied,  no  one  will  ever  prove  that  the  souls 
of  men  become  more  unjust  in  consequence  of  death. 

But  if  someone  who  would  rather  not  admit  the  immortality 
of  the  soul  boldly  denies  this,  and  says  that  the  dying  do  really 
become  more  evil  and  unrighteous,  then,  if  the  speaker  is  right. 


3i3 


PLATO 


I suppose  that  injustice,  like  disease,  must  be  assumed  to  be 
fatal  to  the  unjust,  and  that  those  who  take  this  disorder  die  by 
the  natural  inherent  power  of  destruction  which  evil  has,  and 
which  kills  them  sooner  or  later,  but  in  quite  another  way  from 
that  in  which,  at  present,  the  wicked  receive  death  at  the  hands 
of  others  as  the  penalty  of  their  deeds  ? 

Nay,  he  said^  in  that  case  injustice,  if  fatal  to  the  unjust,  will 
not  be  so  very  terrible  to  him,  for  he  will  be  delivered  from  evil. 
But  I rather  suspect  the  opposite  to  be  the  truth,  and  that  in- 
justice which,  if  it  have  the  power,  will  murder  others,  keeps 
the  murderer  alive — aye,  and  well  awake,  too ; so  far  removed 
is  her  dwelling-place  from  being  a house  of  death. 

True,  I said;  if  the  inherent  natural  vice  or  evil  of  the  soul 
is  unable  to  kill  or  destroy  her^  hardly  will  that  which  is  ap- 
pointed to  be  the  destruction  of  some  other  body,  destroy  a soul 
or  anything  else  except  that  of  which  it  was  appointed  to  be 
the  destruction. 

Yes,  that  can  hardly  be. 

But  the  soul  which  cannot  be  destroyed  by  an  evil,  whether 
inherent  or  external,  must  exist  forever,  and,  if  existing  for- 
ever, must  be  immortal  ? 

Certainly. 

That  is  the  conclusion,  I said ; and,  if  a true  conclusion,  then 
the  souls  must  always  be  the  same,  for  if  none  be  destroyed 
they  will  not  diminish  in  number.  Neither  will  they  increase, 
for  the  increase  of  the  immortal  natures  must  come  from  some- 
thing mortal,  and  all  things  would  thus  end  in  immortality. 

Very  true. 

But  this  we  cannot  believe — reason  will  not  allow  us — any 
more  than  we  can  believe  the  soul,  in  her  truest  nature,  to  be 
full  of  variety  and  difference  and  dissimilarity. 

What  do  you  mean?  he  said. 

The  soul,  I said,  being,  as  is  now  proven,  immortal,  must 
be  the  fairest  of  compositions  and  cannot  be  compounded  of 
many  elements? 

Certainly  not. 

Her  immortality  is  demonstrated  by  the  previous  argument, 
and  there  are  many  other  proofs ; but  to  see  her  as  she  really 
is,  not  as  we  now  behold  her,  marred  by  communion  with  the 
body  and  other  miseries,  you  must  contemplate  her  with  the 


THE  REPUBLIC 


319 


eye  of  reason,  in  her  original  purity ; and  then  her  beauty  will 
be  revealed,  and  justice  and  injustice  and  all  the  things  which 
we  have  described  will  be  manifested  more  clearly.  Thus  far, 
we  have  spoken  the  truth  concerning  her  as  she  appears  at  pres- 
ent, but  we  must  remember  also  that  we  have  seen  her  only  in 
a condition  which  may  be  compared  to  that  of  the  sea-god  Glau- 
cus,  whose  original  image  can  hardly  be  discerned  because  his 
natural  members  are  broken  off  and  crushed  and  damaged  by 
the  waves  in  all  sorts  of  ways,  and  incrustations  have  grown 
over  them  of  sea-weed  and  shells  and  stones,  so  that  he  is  more 
like  some  monster  than  he  is  to  his  own  natural  form.  And 
the  soul  which  we  behold  is  in  a similar  condition,  disfigured 
by  ten  thousand  ills.  But  not  there,  Glaucon,  not  there  must 
we  look. 

Where,  then? 

At  her  love  of  wisdom.  Let  us  see  whom  she  affects,  and 
what  society  and  converse  she  seeks  in  virtue  of  her  near  kin- 
dred with  the  immortal  and  eternal  and  divine ; also  how  differ- 
ent she  would  become  if,  wholly  following  this  superior  princi- 
ple, and  borne  by  a divine  impulse  out  of  the  ocean  in  which 
she  now  is,  and  disengaged  from  the  stones  and  shells  and 
things  of  earth  and  rock  which  in  wild  variety  spring  up  around 
her  because  she  feeds  upon  earth,  and  is  overgrown  by  the  good 
things  in  this  life  as  they  are  termed : then  you  would  see  her  as 
she  is,  and  know  whether  she  have  one  shape  only  or  many, 
or  what  her  nature  is.  Of  her  affections  and  of  the  forms 
which  she  takes  in  this  present  life  I think  that  we  have  now 
said  enough. 

True,  he  replied. 

And  thus,  I said,  we  have  fulfilled  the  conditions  of  the  argu- 
ment ; ^ we  have  not  introduced  the  rewards  and  glories  of 
justice,  which,  as  you  were  saying,  are  to  be  found  in  Homer 
and  Hesiod;  but  justice  in  her  own  nature  has  been  shown  to 
be  the  best  for  the  soul  in  her  own  nature.  Let  a man  do  what 
is  just,  whether  he  have  the  ring  of  Gyges  or  not,  and  even  if 
in  addition  to  the  ring  of  Gyges  he  put  on  the  helmet  of  Hades. 

Very  true. 

And  now,  Glaucon,  there  will  be  no  harm  in  further  enu- 
merating how  many  and  how  great  are  the  rewards  which  jus- 

Classics.  Vol.  31-18  ^ iir.Kv,rd,..ea. 


320 


PLATO 


tice  and  the  other  virtues  procure  to  the  soul  from  gods  and 
men,  both  in  life  and  after  death. 

Certainly  not,  he  said. 

Will  you  repay  me,  then,  what  you  borrowed  in  the  argu- 
ment ? 

What  did  I borrow  ? 

The  assumption  that  the  just  man  should  appear  unjust  and 
the  unjust  just:  for  you  were  of  opinion  that  even  if  the  true 
state  of  the  case  could  not  possibly  escape  the  eyes  of  gods  and 
men,  still  this  admission  ought  to  be  made  for  the  sake  of  the 
argument,  in  order  that  pure  justice  might  be  weighed  against 
pure  injustice.  Do  you  remember? 

I should  be  much  to  blame  if  I had  forgotten. 

Then,  as  the  cause  is  decided,  I demand  on  behalf  of  justice 
that  the  estimation  in  which  she  is  held  by  gods  and  men  and 
which  we  acknowledge  to  be  her  due  should  now  be  restored 
to  her  by  us ; ^ since  she  has  been  shown  to  confer  reality,  and 
not  to  deceive  those  who  truly  possess  her,  let  what  has  been 
taken  from  her  be  given  back,  that  so  she  may  win  that  palm  of 
appearance  which  is  hers  also,  and  which  she  gives  to  her  own. 

The  demand,  he  said,  is  just. 

In  the  first  place,  I said — ^and  this  is  the  first  thing  which 
you  will  have  to  give  back — ^the  nature  both  of  the  just  and  un- 
just is  truly  known  to  the  gods. 

Granted. 

And  if  they  are  both  known  to  them,  one  must  be  the  friend 
and  the  other  the  enemy  of  the  gods,  as  we  admitted  from  the 
beginning? 

True. 

And  the  friend  of  the  gods  may  be  supposed  to  receive  from 
them  all  things  at  their  best,  excepting  only  such  evil  as  is  the 
necessary  consequence  of  former  sins  ? 

Certainly, 

Then  this  must  be  our  notion  of  the  just  man,  that  even  when 
he  is  in  poverty  or  sickness,  or  any  other  seeming  misfortune, 
all  things  will  in  the  end  work  together  for  good  to  him  in  life 
and  death ; for  the  gods  have  a care  of  anyone  whose  desire  is 
to  become  just  and  to  be  like  God,  as  far  as  man  can  attain  the 
divine  likeness,  by  the  pursuit  of  virtue? 

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Yes,  he  said ; if  he  is  like  God  he  will  surely  not  be  neglected 
by  him. 

And  of  the  unjust  may  not  the  opposite  be  supposed? 

Certainly. 

Such,  then,  are  the  palms  of  victory  which  the  gods  give  the 
just? 

That  is  my  conviction. 

And  what  do  they  receive  of  men  ? Look  at  things  as  they 
really  are,  and  you  will  see  that  the  clever  unjust  are  in  the 
case  of  runners,  who  run  well  from  the  starting-place  to  the 
goal,  but  not  back  again  from  the  goal : they  go  off  at  a great 
pace,  but  in  the  end  only  look  foolish,  slinking  away  with  their 
ears  draggling  on  their  shoulders,  and  without  a crown;  but 
the  true  runner  comes  to  the  finish  and  receives  the  prize  and 
is  crowned.  And  this  is  the  way  with  the  just ; he  who  endures 
to  the  end  of  every  action  and  occasion  of  his  entire  life  has  a 
good  report  and  carries  off  the  prize  which  men  have  to  bestow. 

True. 

And  now  you  must  allow  me  to  repeat  of  the  just  the  bless- 
ings which  you  were  attributing  to  the  fortunate  unjust.  I 
shall  say  of  them,  what  you  were  saying  of  the  others,  that  as 
they  grow  older,  they  become  rulers  in  their  own  city  if  they 
care  to  be ; they  marry  whom  they  like  and  give  in  marriage  to 
whom  they  will ; all  that  you  said  of  the  others  I now  say  of 
these.  And;  on  the  other  hand,  of  the  unjust  I say  that  the 
greater  number,  even  though  they  escape  in  their  youth,  are 
found  out  at  last  and  look  foolish  at  the  end  of  their  course, 
and  when  they  come  to  be  old  and  miserable  are  flouted  alike 
by  stranger  and  citizen ; they  are  beaten,  and  then  come  those 
things  unfit  for  ears  polite,  as  you  truly  term  them;  they  will 
be  racked  and  have  their  eyes  burned  out,  as  you  were  saying. 
And  you  may  suppose  that  I have  repeated  the  remainder  of 
your  tale  of  horrors.  But  will  you  let  me  assume,  without  re- 
citing them,  that  these  things  are  true  ? 

Certainly,  he  said,  what  you  say  is  true. 

These,  then,  are  the  prizes  and  rewards  and  gifts  which  are 
bestowed  upon  the  just  by  gods  and  men  in  this  present  life, 
in  addition  to  the  other  good  things  which  justice  of  herself 
provides. 

Yes,  he  said ; and  they  are  fair  and  lasting. 


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And  yet,  I said^  all  these  are  as  nothing  either  in  number  or 
greatness  in  comparison  with  those  other  recompenses  which 
await  both  just  and  unjust  after  death.  And  you  ought  to  hear 
them,  and  then  both  just  and  unjust  will  have  received  from  us 
a full  payment  of  the  debt  which  the  argument  owes  to  them. 

Speak,  he  said;  there  are  few  things  which  I would  more 
gladly  hear. 

Well,  I said,  I will  tell  you  a tale;  not  one  of  the  tales  which 
Odysseus  tells  to  the  hero  Alcinoiis,  yet  this,  too,  is  a tale  of 
a hero,  Er  the  son  of  Armenius,  a Pamphylian  by  birth.  He 
was  slain  in  battle,  and  ten  days  afterward,  when  the  bodies 
of  the  dead  were  taken  up  already  in  a state  of  corruption,  his 
body  was  found  unaffected  by  decay,  and  carried  away  home  to 
be  buried.  And  on  the  twelfth  day,  as  he  was  lying  on  the 
funeral  pyre,  he  returned  to  life  and  told  them  what  he  had  seen 
in  the  other  world.  He  said  that  when  his  soul  left  the  body  he 
went  on  a journey  with  a great  company,  and  that  they  came 
to  a mysterious  place  at  which  there  were  two  openings  in  the 
earth ; they  were  near  together,  and  over  against  them  were 
two  other  openings  in  the  heaven  above.  In  the  intermediate 
space  there  were  judges  seated,  who  commanded  the  just,  after 
they  had  given  judgment  on  them  and  had  bound  their  sen- 
tences in  front  of  them,  to  ascend  by  the  heavenly  way  on  the 
right  hand ; and  in  like  manner  the  unjust  were  bidden  by  them 
to  descend  by  the  lower  way  on  the  left  hand ; these  also  bore 
the  symbols  of  their  deeds,  but  fastened  on  their  backs.  He 
drew  near,  and  they  told  him  that  he  was  to  be  the  messenger 
who  would  carry  the  report  of  the  other  world  to  them,  and 
they  bade  him  hear  and  see  all  that  was  to  be  heard  and  seen  in 
that  place.  Then  he  beheld  and  saw  on  one  side  the  souls  de- 
parting at  either  opening  of  heaven  and  earth  when  sentence 
had  been  given  on  them ; and  at  the  two  other  openings  other 
souls,  some  ascending  out  of  the  earth  dusty  and  worn  with 
travel,  some  descending  out  of  heaven  clean  and  bright.  And 
arriving  ever  and  anon  they  seemed  to  have  come  from  a long 
journey,  and  they  went  forth  with  gladness  into  the  meadow, 
where  they  encamped  as  at  a festival ; and  those  who  knew  one 
another  embraced  and  conversed,  the  souls  which  came  from 
earth  curiously  inquiring  about  the  things  above,  and  the  souls 
which  came  from  heaven  about  the  things  beneath.  And  they 


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told  one  another  of  what  had  happened  by  the  way,  those  from 
below  weeping  and  sorrowing  at  the  remembrance  of  the  things 
which  they  had  endured  and  seen  in  their  journey  beneath  the 
earth  (now  the  journey  lasted  a thousand  years),  while  those 
from  above  were  describing  heavenly  delights  and  visions  of 
inconceivable  beauty.  The  story,  Glaucon,  would  take  too  long 
to  tell;  but  the  sum  was  this:  He  said  that  for  every  wrong 
which  they  had  done  to  anyone  they  suffered  tenfold ; or  once 
in  a hundred  years — such  being  reckoned  to  be  the  length  of 
man's  life,  and  the  penalty  being  thus  paid  ten  times  in  a thou- 
sand years.  If,  for  example,  there  were  any  who  had  been 
the  cause  of  many  deaths^  or  had  betrayed  or  enslaved  cities 
or  armies,  or  been  guilty  of  any  other  evil  behavior,  for  each 
and  all  of  their  offences  they  received  punishment  ten  times 
over,  and  the  rewards  of  beneficence  and  justice  and  holiness 
were  in  the  same  proportion.  I need  hardly  repeat  what  he 
said  concerning  young  children  dying  almost  as  soon  as  they 
were  born.  Of  piety  and  impiety  to  gods  and  parents,  and  of 
murderers,^  there  were  retributions  other  and  greater  far  which 
he  described.  He  mentioned  that  he  was  present  when  one  of 
the  spirits  asked  another,  ‘‘  Where  is  Ardiseus  the  Great  ? 
(Now  this  Ardiaeus  lived  a thousand  years  before  the  time  of 
Er : he  had  been  the  tyrant  of  some  city  of  Pamphylia,  and  had 
murdered  his  aged  father  and  his  elder  brother,  and  was  said  to 
have  committed  many  other  abominable  crimes.)  The  answer 
of  the  other  spirit  was : He  comes  not  hither,  and  will  never 
come."  And  this,  said  he,  was  one  of  the  dreadful  sights 
which  we  ourselves  witnessed.  We  were  at  the  mouth  of  the 
cavern,  and,  having  completed  all  our  experiences,  were  about 
to  reascend,  when  of  a sudden  Ardiaeus  appeared  and  several 
others,  most  of  whom  were  tyrants;  and  there  were  also,  be- 
sides the  tyrants,  private  individuals  who  had  been  great  crimi- 
nals: they  were  just,  as  they  fancied,  about  to  return  into  the 
upper  world,  but  the  mouth,  instead  of  admitting  them,  gave  a 
roar,  whenever  any  of  these  incurable  sinners  or  someone  who 
had  not  been  sufficiently  punished  tried  to  ascend ; and  then  wild 
men  of  fiery  aspect,  who  were  standing  by  and  heard  the  sound, 
seized  and  carried  them  off ; and  Ardiaeus  and  others  they 
bound  head  and  foot  and  hand,  and  threw  them  down  and 

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flayed  them  with  scourges,  and  dragged  them  along  the  road 
at  the  side,  carding  them  on  thorns  like  wool,  and  declaring  to 
the  passers-by  what  were  their  crimes,  and  that  ^ they  were 
being  taken  away  to  be  cast  into  hell.  And  of  all  the  many 
terrors  which  they  had  endured,  he  said  that  there  was  none 
like  the  terror  which  each  of  them  felt  at  that  moment,  lest  they 
should  hear  the  voice ; and  when  there  was  silence,  one  by  one 
they  ascended  with  exceeding  joy.  These,  said  Er,  were  the 
penalties  and  retributions,  and  there  were  blessings  as  great. 

Now  when  the  spirits  which  were  in  the  meadow  had  tarried 
seven  days,  on  the  eighth  they  were  obliged  to  proceed  on  their 
journey,  and,  on  the  fourth  day  after,  he  said  that  they  came 
to  a place  where  they  could  see  from  above  a line  of  light, 
straight  as  a column,  extending  right  through  the  whole  heaven 
and  through  the  earth,  in  color  resembling  the  rainbow,  only 
brighter  and  purer;  another  day's  journey  brought  them  to  the 
place,  and  there,  in  the  midst  of  the  light,  they  saw  the  ends  of 
the  chains  of  heaven  let  down  from  above : for  this  light  is  the 
belt  of  heaven,  and  holds  together  the  circle  of  the  universe, 
like  the  under-girders  of  a trireme.  From  these  ends  is  extend- 
ed the  spindle  of  Necessity,  on  which  all  the  revolutions  turn. 
The  shaft  and  hook  of  this  spindle  are  made  of  steel,  and  the 
whorl  is  made  partly  of  steel  and  also  partly  of  other  materials. 
Now  the  whorl  is  in  form  like  the  whorl  used  on  earth;  and 
the  description  of  it  implied  that  there  is  one  large  hollow  whorl 
which  is  quite  scooped  out,  and  into  this  is  fitted  another  lesser 
one,  and  another,  and  another,  and  four  others,  making  eight 
in  all,  like  vessels  which  fit  into  one  another;  the  whorls  show 
their  edges  on  the  upper  side,  and  on  their  lower  side  all  to- 
gether form  one  continuous  whorl.  This  is  pierced  by  the 
spindle,  which  is  driven  home  through  the  centre  of  the  eighth. 
The  first  and  outermost  whorl  has  the  rim  broadest,  and  the 
seven  inner  whorls  are  narrower,  in  the  following  proportions 
— the  sixth  is  next  to  the  first  in  size,  the  fourth  next  to  the 
sixth ; then  comes  the  eighth ; the  seventh  is  fifth,  the  fifth  is 
sixth,  the  third  is  seventh,  last  and  eighth  comes  the  second. 
The  largest  (or  fixed  stars)  is  spangled,  and  the  seventh  (or 
sun)  is  brightest;  the  eighth  (or  moon)  colored  by  the  reflected 
light  of  the  seventh;  the  second  and  fifth  (Saturn  and  Mer- 

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cury)  are  in  rolor  like  one  another,  and  yellower  than  the  pre- 
ceding; the  third  (Venus)  has  the  whitest  light;  the  fourth 
(Mars)  is  reddish;  the  sixth  (Jupiter)  is  in  whiteness  second. 
Now  the  whole  spindle  has  the  same  motion ; but,  as  the  whole 
revolves  in  one  direction,  the  seven  inner  circles  move  slowly  in 
the  other,  and  of  these  the  swiftest  is  the  eighth ; next  in  swift- 
ness are  the  seventh,  sixth,  and  fifth,  which  move  together; 
third  in  swiftness  appeared  to  move  according  to  the  law  of 
this  reversed  motion,  the  fourth ; the  third  appeared  fourth,  and 
the  second  fifth.  The  spindle  turns  on  the  knees  of  Necessity ; 
and  on  the  upper  surface  of  each  circle  is  a siren,  who  goes 
round  with  them,  hymning  a single  tone  or  note.  The  eight 
together  form  one  harmony;  and  round  about,  at  equal  inter- 
vals, there  is  another  band,  three  in  number,  each  sitting  upon 
her  throne:  these  are  the  Fates,  daughters  of  Necessity,  who 
are  clothed  in  white  robes  and  have  chaplets  upon  their  heads, 
Lachesis  and  Clotho  and  Atropos,  who  accompany  with  their 
voices  the  harmony  of  the  sirens — Lachesis  singing  of  the  past, 
Clotho  of  the  present,  Atropos  of  the  future ; Clotho  from  time 
to  time  assisting  with  a touch  of  her  right  hand  the  revolution 
of  the  outer  circle  of  the  whorl  or  spindle,' and  Atropos  with 
her  left  hand  touching  and  guiding  the  inner  ones,  and  Lachesis 
laying  hold  of  either  in  turn,  first  with  one  hand  and  then  with 
the  other. 

When  Er  and  the  spirits  arrived,  their  duty  was  to  go  at  once 
to  Lachesis ; but  first  of  all  there  came  a prophet  who  arranged 
them  in  order ; then  he  took  from  the  knees  of  Lachesis  lots  and 
samples  of  lives,  and  having  mounted  a high  pulpit,  spoke  as 
follows : “ Hear  the  word  of  Lachesis,  the  daughter  of  Neces- 
sity. Mortal  souls,  behold  a new  cycle  of  life  and  mortality. 
Your  genius  will  not  be  allotted  to  yod,  but  you  will  choose 
your  genius ; and  let  him  who  draws  the  first  lot  have  the  first 
choice,  and  the  life  which  he  chooses  shall  be  his  destiny.  Vir- 
tue is  free,  and  as  a man  honors  or  dishonors  her  he  will  have 
more  or  less  of  her ; the  responsibility  is  with  the  chooser — God 
is  justified.”  When  the  Interpreter  had  thus  spoken  he  scat- 
tered lots  indifferently  among  them  all,  and  each  of  them  took 
up  the  lot  which  fell  near  him,  all  but  Er  himself  (he  was  not 
allowed),  and  each  as  he  took  his  lot  perceived  the  number 
which  he  had  obtained.  Then  the  Interpreter  placed  on  the 


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ground  before  them  the  samples  of  lives ; and  there  were  many 
more  lives  than  the  souls  present,  and  they  were  of  all  sorts. 
There  were  lives  of  every  animal  and  of  man  in  every  condition. 
And  there  were  tyrannies  among  them,  some  lasting  out  the 
tyrant’s  life,  others  which  broke  off  in  the  middle  and  came  to 
an  end  in  poverty  and  exile  and  beggary ; and  there  were  lives 
of  famous  men,  some  who  were  famous  for  their  form  and 
beauty  as  well  as  for  their  strength  and  success  in  games,  or, 
again,  for  their  birth  and  the  qualities  of  their  ancestors ; and 
some  who  were  the  reverse  of  famous  for  the  opposite  qualities. 
And  of  women  likewise;  there  was  not,  however,  any  definite 
character  in  them,  because  the  soul,  when  choosing  a new  life, 
must  of  necessity  become  different.  But  there  was  every  other 
quality,  and  they  all  mingled  with  one  another,  and  also  with 
elements  of  wealth  and  poverty,  and  disease  and  health;  and 
there  were  mean  states  also.  And  here,  my  dear  Glaucon,  is 
the  supreme  peril  of  our  human  state ; and  therefore  the  utmost 
care  should  be  taken.  Let  each  one  of  us  leave  every  other 
kind  of  knowledge  and  seek  and  follow  one  thing  only,  if  per- 
adventure  he  may  be  able  to  learn  and  may  find  someone  who 
will  make  him  able  to  learn  and  discern  between  good  and  evil, 
and  so  to  choose  always  and  everywhere  the  better  life  as  he 
has  opportunity.  He  should  consider  the  bearing  of  all  these 
things  which  have  been  mentioned  severally  and  collectively 
upon  virtue ; he  should  know  what  the  effect  of  beauty  is  when 
combined  with  poverty  or  wealth  in  a particular  soul,  and  what 
are  the  good  and  evil  consequences  of  noble  and  humble  birth, 
of  private  and  public  station,  of  strength  and  weakness,  of 
cleverness  and  dulness,  and  of  all  the  natural  and  acquired  gifts 
of  the  soul,  and  the  operation  of  them  when  conjoined;  he  will 
then  look  at  the  nature  of  the  soul,  and  from  the  consideration 
of  all  these  qualities  he  will  be  able  to  determine  which  is  the 
better  and  which  is  the  worse;  and  so  he  will  choose,  giving 
the  name  of  evil  to  the  life  which  will  make  his  soul  more  un- 
just, and  good  to  the  life  which  will  make  his  soul  more  just; 
all  else  he  will  disregard.  For  we  have  seen  and  know  that  this 
is  the  best  choice  both  in  life  and  after  death.  A man  must 
take  with  him  into  the  world  below  an  adamantine  faith  in  truth 
and  right,  that  there  too  he  may  be  undazzled  by  the  desire  of 
wealth  or  the  other  allurements  of  evil,  lest,  coming  upon  tyran- 


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nies  and  similar  villanies,  he  do  irremediable  wrongs  to  others 
and  suffer  yet  worse  himself ; but  let  him  know  how  to  choose 
the  mean  and  avoid  the  extremes  on  either  side,  as  far  as  possi- 
ble, not  only  in  this  life  but  in  all  that  which  is  to  come.  For 
this  is  the  way  of  happiness. 

And  according  to  the  report  of  the  messenger  from  the  other 
world  this  was  what  the  prophet  said  at  the  time : ‘‘  Even  for 
the  last  comer,  if  he  chooses  wisely  and  will  live  diligently,  there 
is  appointed  a happy  and  not  undesirable  existence.  Let  not 
him  who  chooses  first  be  careless,  and  let  not  the  last  despair.'’ 
And  when  he  had  spoken,  he  who  had  the  first  choice  came  for- 
ward and  in  a moment  chose  the  greatest  tyranny;  his  mind 
having  been  darkened  by  folly  and  sensuality,  he  had  not 
thought  out  the  whole  matter  before  he  chose,  and  did  not  at 
first  sight  perceive  that  he  was  fated,  among  other  evils,  to  de- 
vour his  own  children.  But  when  he  had  time  to  reflect,  and 
saw  what  was  in  the  lot^  he  began  to  beat  his  breast  and  lament 
over  his  choice,  forgetting  the  proclamation  of  the  prophet; 
for,  instead  of  throwing  the  blame  of  his  misfortune  on  himself, 
he  accused  chance  and  the  gods,  and  everything  rather  than 
himself.  Now  he  was  one  of  those  who  came  from  heaven,  and 
in  a former  life  had  dwelt  in  a well-ordered  State,  but  his  virtue 
was  a matter  of  habit  only,  and  he  had  no  philosophy.  And 
it  was  true  of  others  who  were  similarly  overtaken,  that  the 
greater  number  of  them  came  from  heaven  and  therefore  they 
had  never  been  schooled  by  trial,  whereas  the  pilgrims  who 
came  from  earth,  having  themselves  suffered  and  seen  others 
suffer,  were  not  in  a hurry  to  choose.  And  owing  to  this  inex- 
perience of  theirs,  and  also  because  the  lot  was  a chance,  many 
of  the  souls  exchanged  a good  destiny  for  an  evil  or  an  evil  for 
a good.  For  if  a man  had  always  on  his  arrival  in  this  world 
dedicated  himself  from  the  first  to  sound  philosophy,  and  had 
been  moderately  fortunate  in  the  number  of  the  lot,  he  might, 
as  the  messenger  reported,  be  happy  here,  and  also  his  journey 
to  another  life  and  return  to  this,  instead  of  being  rough  and 
underground,  would  be  smooth  and  heavenly.  Most  curious, 
he  said,  was  the  spectacle — sad  and  laughable  and  strange ; for 
the  choice  of  the  souls  was  in  most  cases  based  on  their  experi- 
ence of  a previous  life.  There  he  saw  the  soul  which  had  once 
been  Orpheus  choosing  the  life  of  a swan  out  of  enmity  to 


328 


PLATO 


the  race  of  women,  hating  to  be  born  of  a woman  because  they 
had  been  his  murderers ; he  beheld  also  the  soul  of  Thamyras 
choosing  the  life  of  a nightingale;  birds,  on  the  other  hand, 
like  the  swans  and  other  musicians,  wanting  to  be  men.  The 
soul  which  obtained  the  twentieth  ^ lot  chose  the  life  of  a lion, 
and  this  was  the  soul  of  Ajax  the  son  of  Telamon,  who  would 
not  be  a man,  remembering  the  injustice  which  was  done  him 
in  the  judgment  about  the  arms.  The  next  was  Agamemnon, 
who  took  the  life  of  an  eagle,  because,  like  Ajax,  he  hated 
human  nature  by  reason  of  his  sufferings.  About  the  middle 
came  the  lot  of  Atalanta ; she,  seeing  the  great  fame  of  an  ath- 
lete, was  unable  to  resist  the  temptation:  and  after  her  there 
followed  the  soul  of  Epeus  the  son  of  Panopeus  passing  into 
the  nature  of  a woman  cunning  in  the  arts ; and  far  away  among 
the  last  who  chose,  the  soul  of  the  jester  Thersites  was  putting 
on  the  form  of  a monkey.  There  came  also  the  soul  of  Odys- 
seus having  yet  to  make  a choice,  and  his  lot  happened  to  be 
the  last  of  them  all.  Now  the  recollection  of  former  toils  had 
disenchanted  him  of  ambition,  and  he  went  about  for  a consid- 
erable time  in  search  of  the  life  of  a private  man  who  had  no 
cares ; he  had  some  difficulty  in  finding  this,  which  was  lying 
about  and  had  been  neglected  by  everybody  else ; and  when  he 
saw  it,  he  said  that  he  would  have  done  the  same  had  his  lot 
been  first  instead  of  last,  and  that  he  was  delighted  to  have  it. 
And  not  only  did  men  pass  into  animals,  but  I must  also  men- 
tion that  there  were  animals  tame  and  wild  who  changed  into 
one  another  and  into  corresponding  human  natures — the  good 
into  the  gentle  and  the  evil  into  the  savage,  in  all  sorts  of  com- 
binations. 

All  the  souls  had  now  chosen  their  lives,  and  they  went  in 
the  order  of  their  choice  to  Lachesis,  who  sent  with  them  the 
genius  whom  they  had  severally  chosen,  to  be  the  guardian  of 
their  lives  and  the  fulfiller  of  the  choice:  this  genius  led  the 
souls  first  to  Clotho,  and  drew  them  within  the  revolution  of 
the  spindle  impelled  by  her  hand,  thus  ratifying  the  destiny  of 
each ; and  then,  when  they  were  fastened  to  this,  carried  them 
to  Atropos,  who  spun  the  threads  and  made  them  irreversible, 
whence  without  turning  round  they  passed  beneath  the  throne 
of  Necessity;  and  when  they  had  all  passed,  they  marched  on 

* Reading  eUoarnv, 


THE  REPUBLIC 


329 


in  a scorching  heat  to  the  plain  of  Forgetfulness,  which  was  a 
barren  waste  destitute  of  trees  and  verdure;  and  then  toward 
evening  they  encamped  by  the  river  of  Unmindfulness,  whose 
water  no  vessel  can  hold ; of  this  they  were  all  obliged  to  drink 
a certain  quantity,  and  those  who  were  not  saved  by  wisdom 
drank  more  than  was  necessary ; and  each  one  as  he  drank  for- 
got all  things.  Now  after  they  had  gone  to  rest,  about  the 
middle  of  the  night  there  were  a thunderstorm  and  earthquake, 
and  then  in  an  instant  they  were  driven  upward  in  all  manner 
of  ways  to  their  birth,  like  stars  shooting.  He  himself  was 
hindered  from  drinking  the  water.  But  in  what  manner  or  by 
what  means  he  returned  to  the  body  he  could  not  say ; only,  in 
the  morning,  awaking  suddenly,  he  found  himself  lying  on  the 
pyre. 

And  thus,  Glaucon,  the  tale  has  been  saved  and  has  not  per- 
ished, and  will  save  us  if  we  are  obedient  to  the  word  spoken ; 
and  we  shall  pass  safely  over  the  river  of  Forgetfulness,  and 
our  soul  will  not  be  defiled.  Wherefore  .my  counsel  is  that  we 
hold  fast  ever  to  the  heavenly  way  and  follow  after  justice  and 
virtue  always,  considering  that  the  soul  is  immortal  and  able 
to  endure  every  sort  of  good  and  every  sort  of  evil.  Thus  shall 
we  live  dear  to  one  another  and  to  the  gods^  both  while  remain- 
ing here  and  when,  like  conquerors  in  the  games  who  go  round 
to  gather  gifts,  we  receive  our  reward.  And  it  shall  be  well 
with  us  both  in  this  life  and  in  the  pilgrimage  of  a thousand 
years  which  we  have  been  describing. 


'^m'00-- 

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